


The Keys to Paris

by epcot97



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, Historical References, Marichat, Mystery, Protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-09-06 08:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epcot97/pseuds/epcot97
Summary: It's a race against time when Chat unexpectedly teams up with Marinette to solve the riddle of The Keys to Paris before Hawkmoth gains control of a device so powerful, no Miraculous could stop him. But working side by side reveals unexpected feelings neither knew they had, jeopardizing all of their secrets.  MariChat from Chat's perspective.(Updates Saturdays)





	1. 0200 to 0300 (Paris Time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who have just found me – welcome! For returning friends – thanks for continuing on!
> 
> I have a bit of a penchant for history, and as I was wrapping the fourth story in the Elegy series, I found myself wondering if I could weave an interesting adventure with seemingly disparate - but important - artifacts with unusual ties to Paris. It was a ton of fun doing the research for this and it has lead to some ideas that will appear as additional adventures in the future.
> 
> A word of warning – this is not a sequel to the Elegy series; this is the first in a planned multipart set of stories with characters who are slightly older and more emotionally complex. As this story opens, our favorite superheroes are in their first year at University and amazingly have managed to avoid discovering each other's true identities.
> 
> Poor Chat has had no success wooing Ladybug; as it turns out, though, he's found a dear friend in Marinette, and the two of them have been spending copious amounts of quality time together.
> 
> What could go wrong? -ep

My head hurt. That was the first feeling that percolated into my consciousness.

The second was that I appeared to be face down on very rough surface. And it smelled musty, enough that I felt my nose crinkling automatically in distaste.

I cracked an eye open, trying to ignore the throbbing behind it. The world was at an angle, and I was seeing it through my yellow-green night vision. That confirmed at least one thing: I was still Chat Noir. 

But where was I? Not where I should have been, that much was certain. I tried to pull the threads of memory back into form; the last thing I remembered was being on the rooftop balcony patio of Marinette’s bakery. I’d been away from Paris on a weeklong photo shoot in Nice, which meant my Chat alter-ego had not been able to visit her nightly as he normally would. My first night back, I’d texted her (as Chat) saying I’d wanted to drop by, only to have an akuma push it later into the evening.

When I’d finally arrived, she’d greeted me with a tray of freshly baked Belgian chocolate croissants. I’d barely touched one when a greenish whirlpool of swirling energy opened below us, and we fell for what felt like an eternity. Somewhere along the line, I’d blacked out before waking up here.

Wherever _here_ was.

I pushed myself up into a sitting position, my feline senses straining to collect data. I was in some sort of geometrically shaped space, comprised of what my sense of smell was telling me was very old wood; the faint fragrance of farm animals underlying everything told me I was likely in a barn, though one that hadn’t been used as such for some time. The space wasn’t terribly big and had a door in the far side.

Rotating, I realized there were tiny windows at the joint between the roof and the walls, and the floorboards had spaces between them. I leaned back down again and picked up the faint smell of wheat or some similar type of grain; the space below had most likely been storage of some kind, long since emptied. Propping myself back up again, I went into a pounce-crouch, slowly continuing to rotate. 

That was when I found Marinette.

One quick leap and I was by her side; carefully, I rolled her over. Any thought of _why _she was with me were pushed aside as I did a quick triage; gloved fingers to her wrist located a strong and steady pulse, and though unconscious, my feline hearing heard her breathing regularly. There were no obvious injuries, so I gently placed a paw on her shoulder and nudged her.

“Princess?” I shook her a bit more strongly.

Her blue eyes flew open, and initially were unfocused; they darted around, trying to make sense of where she was; a moment later, she latched onto my somewhat glowing green eyes. “Chat?”

“Right here, Princess,” I said, as I helped her into a seated position. “Are you okay? Is anything painful?” I asked, ignoring for the moment my own aches and pains.

“Just a bit of a headache,” she said. “You?”

“Purrfectly fine,” I lied. “Cats are pretty resilient.”

She seemed to let that go. “Where are we?”

“Barn of some kind,” I said. “There’s a door over there – take my paw and we’ll see if it’s open.” I held out a hand and she took it; I helped her up and then led her through the gloom toward the exit.

My vision only swam a little bit as I stood up, making me wonder if I’d suffered a concussion of some sort. With luck, my faster-than-normal healing abilities would make short work of that.

Carefully, I approached the door. There was a wooden handle on one side, and it appeared not to be locked; still holding Marinette by one hand, I used the other to grasp and then slid it sideways. Considering how old it appeared to be, the mechanism appeared to be in good order, and it rolled noiselessly open.

Wherever we were, it was definitely night – and just as moonless as it had been in Paris. We stood at the top of a short wooden ramp that gave access to a small farmyard rimmed by outbuildings; in the distance, my feline vision could make out fields of some kind, and beyond that… was that the ocean? I sniffed the air, scenting the salty tang of the sea.

“I don’t think we’re in Paris anymore,” I said to Marinette.

“No,” she agreed.

I pulled out my baton, which I somehow still had, and cracked it open. For a moment, it displayed the current time – 0135 – then suddenly shifted to 2035. It had auto adjusted to the current time zone we were in, and if my math was correct, we were somewhere far, far west of Paris. Six hours would put us…

“We’re in the United States,” I said confidently, flipping to my GPS function. I noted that the that the ladybug logo didn’t appear; hopefully that meant she was safe and sound back in Paris. I quickly scrolled the map. “Virginia, to be exact.” I looked back at Marinette. “Mount Vernon – I’ve read about this place,” I told her as I swapped to the phone mode. “It’s the estate of the very first President.”

“Washington?” Marinette said, no slouch when it came to Global History.

I nodded. “I need to call Ladybug,” I said as I speed dialed my partner, “and let her know where I am.”

I’m not sure she realized I could see her expression; she’d started to say something and then stopped.

Ladybug didn’t answer, and I left a quick message for her. “It’s Chat, obviously,” I smiled. “Who else would call this line, anyway? I have no idea how I got here, but I’m in the United States – still trying to figure out why – call me when you get this.”

I clicked the phone shut, ruminating. This was a bit of a problem – aside from the small matter of how we’d managed to be transported across an ocean and then some, getting back was going to be a challenge. Even if I could drop my transformation and return to being Adrien, explaining how I’d gotten here in the first place to a sure-to-be-apoplectic Father would be nearly impossible without revealing my alter ego.

I looked sidelong at Marinette. Having her by my side was an unexpected complication; not an unwelcome one – we’d spent quite a bit of quality time together over the last four years; even more now that we were attending the same university together. (Well, technically, Adrien was attending university with her. But who am I to quibble?)

Actually, I was quite fond of her, and she clearly felt the same about Chat. But there was no way I’d be able to drop my transformation without revealing to her my true identity; Ladybug had drilled into me how important it was that we guard that particular secret, so it appeared I’d be staying Chat for the foreseeable future.

How a cat-themed superhero would hide in plain sight, especially near the national capital of another country, was going to be an interesting challenge to surmount.

There was one other person I could call, but it was a risk to do it in front of Marinette. Intuitively, though, I knew I could trust her. I turned to her fully, and put an arm to hers.

“I don’t know how we got here, Princess, but I will get us home,” I said. “I am going to have to trust you with a secret or two though. Are you okay with that?”

Her eyes flashed, even in the dark. “Chat, you _can’t_ tell me who you are,” she said firmly.

“That’s not one of the secrets I had in mind,” I said, laughing, “and though I _would_ trust that particular one to you, willingly, it’s too dangerous for you to know.”

She nodded, seeming a bit more at ease. “All right.”

“I need to make another phone call,” I started. “I’m not sure how they would react if I let you know their identity – so until I find out, I want you to wait right here while I go way over there to call.”

“I’ll be right here,” she smiled. 

“Clawsome,” I said, starting to trot away from her.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting, kitty,” she added.

That made me pause, and I turned. “Sorry?” I asked.

“Don’t keep a girl waiting,” she said. 

I was certain she’d said _kitty_, which was Ladybug’s term of endearment for me. But maybe I’d heard it wrong.

Once I was on the far side of the clearing, I speed dialed Master Fu. Thankfully, he picked up. “Chat Noir?”

“Master Fu, I have a situation,” I said without preamble. “A portal of some kind grabbed me this evening and seems to have dropped me in the United States. Virginia, to be exact.”

His eyes narrowed on the small screen. “Describe it.”

“I only saw it for a few seconds, but greenish, I’d guess?”

“With black accents?”

I thought about that. “Maybe.”

“Where were you when it opened?”

I hesitated, not entirely certain I should tell him that, essentially, Chat was on a date. “I was with a friend,” I said honestly. “In Paris.”

“Who?” he asked suddenly. “And are they with you?”

I sighed. It appeared honesty would be necessary. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and yes.”

He nodded. “Bring her to the phone,” he said. “What I am about to say affects both of you.”

I raised a masked eyebrow. “All right,” I said, and I trotted back across to Marinette. “He wants to talk to both of us,” I explained, holding the phone so both of us could see his tiny image.

“Hello, Marinette,” Master Fu said. “I must apologize, but I cannot share my name with you. I will need you to trust that Chat and I will get you through this situation without forcing you to be a party to or need to reveal any secrets more than is absolutely necessary.”

The Master’s phrasing was odd, but Marinette seemed to understand his point. “All right,” she agreed.

Fu looked at us. “I won’t hide the fact that the two of you have landed in the middle of something big,” he started. “If what Chat describes to me is correct, I believe Chat’s Miraculous has been summonsed to protect the Keys to Paris.”

“The what?” I asked.

“Keys to Paris,” Master Fu repeated. “There are twelve of them, common objects that have a connection to the City of Paris and have been bewitched in such a way that when they come together, they form a ‘master key’ for lack of a better word.”

I looked at him. “Let me guess. This master key opens something that we don’t want opened.”

“Correct,” Master Fu said. “There is a box, somewhere here in Paris, that the key will unlock; the holder of what is inside that box would have the ability to control any Miraculous, anywhere.” He looked strained. “This box has been hidden for millennia. Even my order had no idea where it was located, and it moves on its own every two hundred years.” He paused. “The fact you’ve been activated means someone, likely our friend Hawkmoth, has stumbled onto the path toward finding one or more keys.”

“Okay,” I said, looking at Marinette. “How have I been activated, exactly?”

Fu looked a bit uncomfortable and glanced briefly at Marinette. “Typically, both the Cat and Bug Miraculous are activated, Chat,” he started. “I have to assume that something has prevented Ladybug from answering the summons, and I will check on this end to see why.”

“She didn’t answer when I called her,” I said, my voice betraying my concern. While I had long since given up my hopes on her returning my love, she was still an intimate friend that I cared deeply for. I had always felt the acute need to protect her, and now that there was a chance she was in trouble, the fact I was half a world away was weighing on me.

Fu looked at Marinette again. “I think she will be just fine, Chat.” He changed direction. “Your Miraculous, now that it has been triggered, will automatically take you to the vicinity of a Key; your task is to locate each key before Hawkmoth gets there and can obtain it, remove it and bring _all _of them back to Paris.” He paused again. “Once a key has been removed from its protected location, whether by you or by Hawkmoth, your Miraculous will automatically take you to the next key.”

“How do I remove it?” I asked, before realizing my answer. “Ah,” I said. “Cataclysm or Ladybug Magic?”

“Both work hand in hand, Chat, as they normally would – but there are some differences. In this case, only Cataclysm will work to remove the bewitched item – and, Chat, this is very important: for the next thirteen hours, you’ve gained the ability to use your super power once per hour with no need to drop your transformation. In fact, if you do de-transform, you will lose the path to the next key.”

“Thirteen hours? That seems like a particularly specific number.”

“It is,” Master Fu said. “Ladybug’s Lucky Charm has the power to disable all of the keys, but she can only use it once. If we do not disable all twelve keys by the final minute of the final hour, the puzzle resets, and we start over. The cycle will run endlessly until it concludes or the box is located.”

“Like, _endlessly_ endlessly?” I said. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said. He turned to Marinette. “I’m sorry, my dear, that you are caught up in this, but I have to believe the Miraculous magic determined you would be an… asset to Chat Noir. Assist him if you can.”

“I will,” Marinette said.

“Chat, your baton has been updated with data on this puzzle; I will send you more as I find out more. It will also maintain an inventory of sorts as you move through the puzzle.”

I held the baton out a bit. “This is starting to feel a bit like I’ve landed in one of my adventuring games from the Xbox.”

Fu smiled. “Stay in touch, and stay safe.” He looked at me. “Keep Marinette safe, too,” he said. “There are likely protections around these keys; some will not easily allow themselves to be taken.”

“Will do,” I said, and clicked the phone off, turning to Marinette. “I’m sorry, Marinette; looks like I picked the wrong evening to swing by your place for baked goods.”

She smiled at me. “Oh,” she said, “It’s never a bad evening when you drop by, Chat. Actually, I think we were just where we both needed to be.”

“I’m glad you have faith in us,” I said as I replaced the baton on the small of my back.

My night vision let me see her smile. “I have faith in _you_, Chat,” she said, pressing an affectionate hand against my bicep. “Wow,” she said, suddenly running her hand along the muscle. “When did that get so big?”

Thankfully, the flame of embarrassment on my cheeks was hidden by the night. “I call it the superhero workout,” I laughed, trying to mask the odd feelings her touch had triggered. “Four long years of akuma attacks. Sometimes more than one in a day.”

“Huh,” she said.

“I think I know our first key,” I said, coughing to cover the croak in my voice.

“Yeah, this one is a softball,” she concurred. “You agree it’s Lafayette’s gift?”

“Yes,” I said. “Assuming that Mount Vernon is where we are supposed to look,” I added. “But the Key to the Bastille seems the most obvious item.”

“Is it _too_ obvious?” she asked.

“Hopefully not.” I scanned the field and located what appeared to be a major pathway. “If I remember the story, it’s hanging in Washington’s dining room.”

“I think that’s wrong, Chat,” Marinette said, still holding my hand as I led her toward the mansion. “It’s in the main foyer.”

“Who got an ‘A’ in---” I started, then short circuited myself. It wouldn’t do for me to tell her I sat next to her in History. “I mean, if you’re sure, we’ll start there, of course.”

“Pretty sure,” she said.

The path headed toward the ocean, and then turned off to our left. I paused, and pulled out my baton, which was showing 2047. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Princess, but I think we need to pick up the pace.”

“What are you asking?”

“I’m going to pick you up, gently, of course, and then move a bit… faster… to the mansion.”

“Gotcha,” she said, and immediately leapt up into my arms.

I made a series of long leaps down the pathway and landed on the edge of the wide driveway that formed an oblong circle in front of the mansion. Marinette dropped out of my arms and we approached the main entrance. Optimistically, I tried the knob. 

It was locked.

“If Ladybug were here, I’d bust this down and assume Miraculous Ladybug would restore it,” I said wistfully.

Marinette chuckled. “Something tells me she’d not agree to that course of action, normally.”

Despite the situation, I laughed. “Likely true,” I replied as I started to look for an alternative way in. Nothing seemed obvious from the front, and in truth, I was loathe to harm the historical structure in any way.

“Is that a cupola up there?” Marinette asked, trying to make out the shape of the mansion in the darkness. 

I pulled out my baton, noted quickly that it was now 2051, and flipped into my data mode. As fast as my claws could work, I pulled up the official website for Mount Vernon and looked over the floorplan. “Yes,” I said, “and if I can get in up there, it gives access straight down to the main hallway.”

I wrapped an arm around her and started to extend the baton. “Ready?”

“I guess,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d take me.”

We rose up the side of the mansion smoothly. “Princess, you’re not leaving my sight until this is over, ‘kay?”

The elevator stopped at the cupola, and we gently stepped onto the sloped roof below it. Fortunately, the kwami gods were behind us, and one of the windows had been cracked open. I put a paw below it and gently pressed upward, making just enough space for us to crawl through.

“Hold on,” I said, grabbing her again and swiftly dropping down the slanted ladderway to the floor below; I leapt over the wooden railing ringing the main stairway and landed on the second floor, then slid around the banister and over the edge, dropping cleanly to the main level.

“Where is it supposed to be?” I asked, furiously scanning the walls. 

“It should be hanging,” Marinette said, taking the opposite end of the hallway and using her cellphone’s flashlight to scan the walls. “Here!” she said.

I bounded over to her. A wrought iron key was inside a glass-and-wooden display case, hanging from a nail; it was just above what looked like a painting of the Bastille. I turned to her. “Master – uh, our friend warned us that there could be counter measures,” I said, as I started to hold out my ring hand. “This could go badly – step behind me, if you don’t mind.”

Marinette didn’t argue and swiftly ducked behind me.

I took a deep breath. “Cataclysm!” I cried.

The power of destruction flowed into my hand with that odd feeling I’d never been able to fully explain to Marinette. I paused. Did I need to touch the case? Or the object?

“Uh, Marinette,” I said, the power sparking from my hand. “Case or key?”

“Key!” she said.

With the other hand, I extended the baton and batted the case down from the wall; it hurt me to see it smash into a hundred pieces of wood and glass. The key remained fastened to the wooden backing of the case, and I bent down and gently swiped at it with my ring hand.

Normally, items that I use Cataclysm against turned brown and dissolved; this strange variation I had for the next few hours enveloped the object in a green-black glow of energy not unlike the transformation wave I experienced. The key lit up in with a brilliant white glare, bright enough that I threw my paw in front of my eyes to shield them.

Then it popped like fireworks, little bursts of green-black energy crackling around us. In mere seconds, the key rose on its own and hovered in front of me. A miniature green-black whirlpool of energy opened, and the key moved into it. flashing out of existence. I made the quick assumption that it was now in some sort of virtual storage space that I’d call upon later, once I finally (hopefully) met up with Ladybug.

Nearly simultaneously, a much larger whirlpool portal of that same green-black energy irised open against the wall, just below where the key had been.

I turned to Marinette. “I think we can assume we passed the first test,” I said.

“I’d agree with that,” she smiled. “One down, eleven to go.”

I held out my paw. “Ready?”

She took it. “Let’s go!”

Together, we leapt into the whirlpool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Note: Much like _Elegy for a Chat_, the original version of this story appeared elsewhere initially. As I add it to AO3, I'm attempting very, very hard to not edit it -- but honestly, I can't help myself. So if you have read this before, you'll definitely see a few tweaks. And bonus points for reading it again!


	2. 0300 to 0400 (Paris Time)

We tumbled out of the portal onto a wide, grassy area. My first overwhelming sense was that we had moved even closer to the ocean; unlike Mount Vernon, though, this part of the world appeared to be alive with activity. As we sat on the damp grass, I saw ferries and long cargo ships steaming past each other in opposite directions; turning slightly, I could just make out the impressive skyline of a sizable metropolis. 

One skyscraper in particular stood out.

“New York,” I heard Marinette say, having seen the spire from One World Trade Center as well.

“Aside from the movie, I can’t immediately recall what the _French Connection_ is here,” I said, scratching the back of my neck.

“You’re sitting under it, Chat,” Marinette said, softly.

I looked up. She wasn’t kidding, we were a few hundred meters from the Statue of Liberty. “It’s much bigger in person, isn’t it?” I said, slightly awed by Lady Liberty. “I have a hard time thinking that the Statue is the next key, though,” I added.

“I’d agree with that,” Marinette said as I helped her to her feet. “If I remember correctly, this was a gift from France for the one-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the United States.”

“But what is the connection to Paris?” I said. “I thought---” I paused, ears swiveling, and then quickly grabbed Marinette and launched ourselves into a row of bushes just off the grass. She knew better to say anything as I pressed us down below the edge of the bush.

What appeared to be a security officer appeared on the path at a run, holding a flashlight steady; two others were right behind him, and they were making a beeline for where we’d been recently sitting on the grass. “Uh oh,” I said quietly. 

“Cameras?” Marinette whispered.

I peered around the hedge and located several that were fastened over what appeared to be the security entrance for the statue. All were trained on the grassy area. “Oops,” I said simply. “Have to keep that in mind as we move forward,” I said quietly.

I turned my back to the hedge and covered Marinette with my body, trusting that the light-absorbing fabric of my costume would work its magic. The trio of officers stopped and examined where we had been.

“I’d swear I’d seen it right here, Captain,” my sensitive feline hearing heard.

There was a pause, and presumably the Captain answered back: “And you say you saw a _cat, _Officer? A human-sized cat?”

“Yes!” Officer said. “He had a gold bell at the collar and young woman with him.”

That bell kept getting me into trouble, but I refused to eliminate it from the costume. 

“A human sized cat, Cap?” a third voice chuckled. “Phil, you know you can’t drink on the job.”

“Stan, I wasn’t!” Officer cried. “I swear – it was dressed in all black, with large, green eyes…”

The lights flashed around again, but the voices faded as they returned to wherever they had been stationed. I knew one of the three was about to endure a long night of ribbing, and smiled to myself. If I had the time, I’d have to let him know, somehow, he’d not been crazy.

“That was close,” I said, as I uncoiled myself and we stood up again. “Now, where were we?” I asked as I parted the bushes with my paws to let Marinette back out, although I carefully kept her behind me. “Hang on a second,” I said before we continued, pulling my baton out.

Over the years, Plagg had helpfully added more and more features to my trusty device, and this time I pulled up the scanning program that would help me map detection devices. In short order, I had a clear idea of what the baton referred to as “cones of detection” and a safe path toward the Statue. I turned the screen toward Marinette.

“I wish my—rather, that’s fairly cool,” she said, as she traced the path with a finger. “But the real question is this: is the key the Statue, or is it something here _with_ the statue?”

The wind shifted and Marinette’s unique scent – vanilla, sugar, exotic spices – suddenly wafted past my feline nose. It was a close combination of Ladybug’s personal scent, and the similarity had always intrigued me. In my four-plus years as Chat Noir, no two people had ever, literally, smelled the same, save for these two. I’d written it off to the fact that I spent a lot of time with both of them. I didn’t know why tonight of all nights it had attracted my attention.

I shook my long, blonde mane to clear my head. “I have to think it’s something here on site.”

Marinette pulled out her cell phone. “Let me do a quick internet search,” she said. “In the meantime, you should see if your baton has some sort of tracker built into it.”

I raised a masked eyebrow. “If it had that, I’d assume those portals would just drop us off directly in front of the key in the first place.”

“A girl can hope, right?” she smiled as she plucked her keyboard.

Just to be safe, I cycled through the functions on the baton. Sadly, there was no _Keys to Paris_ locator function on the menu. “Nothing helpful here,” I said as I clicked back to the “cone of detection” scanner. “But I—”

My feline ears picked up a low rumble. It took a moment to figure out what it was, and when I saw it, I felt my eyes go wide. “Uh, Marinette…”

“Hmm?” she said as she worked her phone.

“We have a problem. A _big_ problem.”

She looked up at me, and then followed my gaze, jaw dropping.

Lady Liberty was staring at us. The colossus had twisted her head in our direction, and appeared to now be aiming the torch toward our general location. I had a split second to wrap my arm around Marinette and leap toward the relative safety of the trees ringing the grassy field before a burst of energy blackened the grass we’d recently been standing on.

I’d come down in a tuck-and-roll, again wrapping my body around Marinette for her protection; I rolled out and gently released her while simultaneously extended my baton and spinning it up into a shield. Two more blasts hit the shield squarely, which I deflected; the third was intense enough that it pushed me back into Marinette. 

“Akuma?” she asked as the Statue continued to pummel me.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “This feels more like the Key protecting itself,” I added, deflecting another blast and trying to crab us toward a more protected position.

“We must be close, then,” she said. She pointed toward the base. “I think we can assume it’s movements will be restricted – can you leap us to that window in the base?”

“Yeah,” I said, another blast pushing me down into a crouch. “But why there? You think it’s inside?”

“I do,” she said. “Before she interrupted me, I thought I had a bead on a likely candidate.”

“That’s good enough for me,” I said. “Get close, I’ll try to deflect and then use it as cover to vault.”

I fended off two more blasts as Marinette came up behind me and wrapped herself around my torso. I shifted my angle on the shield slightly and managed to deflect the next blast directly back at the torch; I didn’t wait to see what damage I’d incurred and instead made a massive leap toward the stone base of the monument. Once in the air, I extended the baton and used it to increase our height and arc, aiming for the window in question. I hadn’t wanted to tell Marinette that it might actually be higher than the baton was capable of extending; I’d never pushed it this far before. Doing the math in my head, I tried to pole vault us into an arc that would get us high enough.

“We’re gonna come it hot!” I yelled as the window whistled up fast. “Hold on!”

I angled myself to get between the columns protecting the space, and led with my boots as we angled back down; with a resounding crash, we smashed through the window faster than I would have liked with a passenger on my back. I managed to stay upright and use the hard edges of my boots to skid to a stop a few meters from the pony wall that rimmed the atrium we’d broken into.

And broke in we did; alarm klaxons started blaring throughout the space. 

“I think we’re going to have friends, and soon,” I said as Marinette unwrapped herself from me and I dusted the stray shards of glass off her shoulders. “Not to rush you,” I added, popping the baton to check the time – 0320, it read - “but what was your lead?”

“Leads,” she said, having to speak up to hear herself over the blaring alarms. “Assuming we are only looking for items that have a connection with Paris, there are two possibilities.”

I looked at her. “And?” I prompted, thinking this was not really a time to be dramatic.

“There’s—”

My feline ears heard a door being yanked open on the far side of the atrium, and our friend from the field appeared a heartbeat later. I’d tried to squash us down behind the railing, but thought he’d caught the tail end of my ears as they’d sunk below the golden railing atop the pony wall. 

“Freeze!” he yelled. “I can see you, whatever you are!”

“Lovely,” I breathed, looking at Marinette.

“Come out, now, with your hands in the air!” he cried. “_Now!_”

I leaned into Marinette, twisting my baton twice as I did so. Two earwigs popped out of the bottom of the device; I handed one to her. “Put this in your ear,” I instructed, showing her how with mine. “This will allow us to stay in communication; I can also keep track of you.”

She nodded and slipped it in like she done it before.

“Go find the Key,” I whispered, sliding the baton into its space on the small of my back. “I can be a distraction when I want to be. Just give me the high sign when you’re ready.”

“You can be that, kitty,” she said affectionately, bopping the tiny piece of my nose not covered by the mask with a finger.

There was that feeling again.

I coughed slightly and smiled. “Off with you.”

She scuttled away, keeping her head below the railing, and I stood up, arms raised. “I think, friend, you mean ‘paws in the air,’” I joshed, switching to English and keeping a slight French accent to it.

Even from across the space, I could see his eyes widen. “You… you _are_ a… cat?”

Keeping my eyes on him, and trying to ignore the weapon he had trained on me, I slowly started to walk around to him, in the direction away from Marinette. “I am,” I said. “My ego is bruised that you’ve not heard of me.”

“Heard of you?” he said, eyes wide. “What, are you famous?”

“Ouch,” I heard Marinette say in my ear. 

“_Seriously?_” I said as I got closer, carefully staying in his frame. “Incroyable. J'y crois pas,” I said, accidently dropping back to French. “Maybe not here in America,” I said in English. “My name is Chat Noir.”

“Shat nwar?” he repeated, completely garbling badly my mellifluous name.

I put my paws on my hips. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“Double ouch,” Marinette was lightly laughing in my ear. “I’m on the floor below you, Chat. First option is out, moving to the second.”

“Hands up!” the officer repeated.

I raised them up again. “Fine. You can use the English version – Cat Noir.”

“Whatever!” the officer said, eyes as wide as they could get. Clearly having a man-sized cat moving in on his personal space was starting to unnerve him; I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the rising odor from his increased perspiration, for which his deodorant was not up to the task. “Stop right there, turn to the wall, and keep your hands up!”

I scanned the space as I did as instructed, facing the wall and putting my hands against the brickwork. “Look,” I said casually, “I purrfectly harmless. But feel free to search if you need to.”

“Right,” Phil said. “Like I’m going to believe that from a guy in a cat costume.”

“Hey!” I said, turning. “I’ll have you know I designed—”

“Against the wall!” he yelled, prodding me in the back with the business end of his weapon. 

“Of course,” I said, trying to keep my tail from twitching in irritation. 

Using a free hand, he started a standard pat down; I thought it was good that he’d not called for backup yet, making the odds a bit better. Phil covered me surprisingly thoroughly despite keeping his weapon on me the entire time. I wasn’t surprised to feel him remove my baton; I _was_ surprised when I felt the first half of a pair of handcuffs go on.

“I’m not sure this is necessary,” I said as he wrapped my arm behind my back, and then yanked the other down to join it. A moment later came the _click_ as the second half of the bracelet was triggered. He spun me around and forced me into a sitting position with a not-very-gently shove to the shoulders.

I glared up at him through my bangs, masked green eyes narrowing. “You really want to do it this way?” I asked. “And we were hitting it off so nicely, too.”

He stared at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he’d stuffed my baton into his belt.

_That’ll work if things get messy_.

“Look, Phil, is it? I really am rather famous. Do a quick Google on me.” I shifted my face to a more impish look, complete with a brilliant Chat smile. “If you have kids, they’ll never forgive you for not getting my pawsigraph.”

He’d started to reach for his radio, but paused. My charisma can do that to people. Just not Ladybug, apparently.

“Seriously, dude,” I said, channeling Carapace a bit. “Clearly I’m not going anywhere. Google me.”

Phil managed to keep what turned out to be a nasty looking stun gun trained on me while simultaneously pulling out his smart phone. Thumbing his phone, he started to tap at it. “How do you spell it?”

“In France, it’s C-H-A-T N-O-I-R,” I said. 

He tapped away and started to read, eyes widening slightly as he did so. Then he scrolled, eyes even wider. He started to look to me and then photos on his phone. “You… you really are… him?”

“In the fur,” I nodded. “By the way, what time is it?”

“Quarter to ten,” he said. “Why are you here?” he asked, putting the phone back and slightly lowering his weapon.

_Merde. Fifteen minutes._

“I don’t have a lot of time to explain,” I said, eyes carefully _not_ on the stun gun. “The short answer is I am tracking down a very, very dangerous object and a portion of it has been hidden here in an object on display in your museum. I need to find it and temporarily take it back to Paris.” I paused, suddenly realizing I was sounding more like a cat burglar than a cat hero. “It will be returned,” I assured him, “once we’ve… repaired it.”

Phil looked at me, and I dug deep into my model catalog to look as guileless as possible. I waited a few heartbeats, tensing slightly at the prospect I was going to have to snap the handcuffs and deal with him differently.

Fortunately, he seemed to decide I was on the up-and-up. “All right, Chat,” he said, pronouncing it somewhat close. “Stand up and turn around; I’ll take those cuffs off.”

I did as instructed, and he asked as he removed them, “What are you looking for?”

“My partner and I narrowed it down to one of two items,” I said. I pointed to the baton. “If I can have that back, I’ll see where she’s gotten to.”

“Nicely done, Chat,” she said in my ear. “I’ve found it, by the way.”

Phil rolled his eyes as he gave it back to me. “I missed someone else?” he lamented. “I’m not going to live this down.” 

I put a paw on his shoulder. “It’ll be our little secret,” I said as I popped open the baton and speed dialed Marinette. She was only one of a few non-Miraculous contacts I kept on the baton’s address book.

Her face popped up. “Chat? Are you OK?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve made a new friend. Where are you?”

“First floor, northmost exhibit space. I think I have it.”

“How is that a phone?” Phil asked.

“It’s many things,” I said to him. Then to Marinette: “Be right there.”

I clicked it closed. “You might want to see this,” I said. “But first, want that pawisgraph?”

“No,” Phil said, and actually smiled. “But can I get a selfie with you instead?”

I held his phone out for him (my reach went out further), took the photo, and in the interest of time, picked him up and leapt over the edge of the railing to meet up with Marinette. Phil yelled all the way down and was somewhat surprised to find he’d survived.

Marinette was standing next to a wall mounted French flag. “This has to be it,” she said, pointing to the plaque.

I scanned it quickly. “Yadda… yadda… ‘Bartholdi removed this flag which had flown over the Grand Palais to unveil Lady Liberty’s face during the dedication ceremony in 1886…’” I looked back at Marinette, nodding thoughtfully. “I think you’re right.”

“What do you need to do?” Phil asked.

“You might want to stand back,” I said, “and no photos, please,” I added, seeing him lift his phone in anticipation.

“Oh no,” he said. “I am _totally_ filming this.”

I started to object, but Marinette rescued me. “If you do,” she said, popping open her purse and producing a business card, “can you send a copy to this journalist for us?” She looked back at me. “She’s sort of the unofficial chronicler for Chat.”

“’The Ladyblog?’” he asked. “All right.”

I frowned but we were running short of time. “Stand back,” I repeated, raising my hand.

“Cataclysm!”

The power ran into my hand per usual and I quickly brushed my fingertips along the flag, cringing slightly at the act against the symbol of my nation. As with the Bastille Key, the flag started to glow with a brilliant white color, moved off the wall, and exploded with green-black fireworks. The same miniature whirlpool of energy appeared and with a subtle _poof_ the flag disappeared.

A fraction of a second later, the larger portal we’d been using irised open against the now empty wall.

I turned to Phil, who was slack-jawed. “Thanks for your help, Officer Phil,” I said loudly. “Without your it, we never would have been able to save the world.”

Marinette lifted an eyebrow, her expression saying: _You’ll need to explain that one later_.

“You’re... you’re welcome,” he stammered.

Without thinking, I did my traditional fist pump to Marinette. “Pound it!” we both said; Marinette’s eyes immediately went wide with shock and she pulled away, quickly.

I stared at her. It had been so natural, I’d forgotten she was not Ladybug. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s traditional—”

“I know,” Marinette said hastily. “Alya has plenty of video of the two of you doing it.”

“No worries,” I replied, taking her hand back into my paw. “You’re my partner right now, so it’s totally appropriate.”

“That’s true,” she smiled. “Two down…”

“Ten to go.” I saluted Phil. “Later!” 

We leapt into the maelstrom.


	3. 0400 to 0500 (Paris Time)

We tumbled out of the portal and rolled a few times along wide plaza paved in colorfully pastel squares of granite, coming to rest in the shadow of a building at an odd angle to the road that ran along one edge of the plaza. My feline ears picked up the hiss of swiftly moving traffic somewhere behind us, likely on some sort of major thoroughfare – there was plenty of traffic on the road I was staring at, but nothing like what I could hear in the background.

There was more light here in the sky than where we’d been in New York, meaning we’d likely moved west some distance, crossing even more time zones. I’d have to deal with that in a moment, as we were very exposed and had drawn the attention of a number of pedestrians that had been crossing the space. I was assuming it had less to do with the portal and everything to do with the cat-themed superhero who was currently in his patented pounce-crouch stance. 

Nothing to see here.

Thinking fast, I stood and helped Marinette to her feet. “I think that will do it, don’t you?” I said loudly to the crowd that had started to mill. 

“Yes,” she agreed, grasping my thread and fishing around in her purse for her phone.

I flexed a bit in the costume, and turned a rotation for her, saying, “I don’t think I’ll have any trouble with the action scenes; this fabric is flexible enough to give me full range of motion.”

“Good,” she said, alternating between furiously tapping on her phone and taking photos. “How about the boots?”

I lifted one and checked out the sole. “Light enough to allow for running…” I began.

We kept on like that for a few minutes, and the crowd drifted away.

“That was close,” Marinette said when it was just the two of us again. Passerby were now ignoring us. “How did you know that would work?”

I pointed to the building with a claw tip. “That.”

She turned and smiled. We were just a few meters away from the iconic Sorcerer Mickey hat that adorned the headquarters for Walt Disney Feature Animation. “Wow.” She turned back. “You went total Hollywood there.”

“I figured it was the only way to blend in. We _are_ on a movie studio lot, after all.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That might give us a bit more freedom to move around,” she said thoughtfully. “Disney owns Marvel, anyway. If we don’t correct anyone, they’ll think you’re one of the sub-characters in that universe.”

“A _sub-character_?!” I spluttered. “Wouldn’t I rate my own franchise?”

Marinette trailed a finger along the edge of my arm. “I don’t think anyone would believe a cat-themed superhero, Chat.” 

I knew she was teasing me, but I also felt steam coming out of my ears, too. I took a breath. “Well, smarty pants,” I said, “pray tell where we go from here.”

Her smile faltered. “I don’t know much about Disney,” she admitted. “The question, I suppose, is whether there is just some connection to Paris specific to the company, or an object that represents that.”

I nodded. “I’m guessing the park outside of Paris doesn’t count.”

Marinette smiled. “We’d be there if it did.”

“Never say never. We still have nine keys after this one.”

“Google?” Marinette suggested helpfully as she bent to her phone.

“Wait a second,” I said, pulling something from the dredges of memory. “Did you get to that travelling Disney exhibit a few years ago? Chloe’s dad cleared out two of his ballrooms at the Le Grande Hotel for it.”

She frowned. “No,” she said. “I’ve been pretty busy with---with the Bakery.”

“I went with my Father,” I said absently. “We don’t do a lot of stuff together, but his company…” I paused, catching the odd expression in Marinette’s eyes.

_Whoops!_

I’d nearly revealed a bit too much about my alter-ego. Considering how careful I’d been over the past four years, I couldn’t believe I’d become so comfortable in Marinette’s presence over the last couple of hours I was unconsciously blending my two personas together. 

I started over. “Rather, uh, Ladybug and I had to fight off an akuma there, that, uh…”

Marinette frowned. “We—I mean, you did? I don’t remember that…”

Cheeks now flaming, since she clearly had figured out I was trying to hide something, I changed directions. “_Any_way, the exhibit had a reproduction of Walt Disney’s office, and I swear I saw something there at the time.”

I took our bearings and popped open the baton, firing up the GPS function. “Unless I’m wrong, I think his original office was recently re-opened here at the studios for tours. If we can get to it, maybe I’ll remember what I saw.”

Marinette was still looking at me funny. “That’s as good a plan as any,” she said. “Which way?”

“Depends,” I smiled. “By air or do we want to try the ‘testing the costume’ route again?”

“In the interests of time…” she said, looking at her phone, then twisting it to show me the time was 1912 local.

“Hang on,” I said, wrapping my arm around her waist and grabbing my baton. She threw an arm over my shoulder and I trotted off to the multi-story building just south and west of the plaza, leapt and extended the baton. I titled to the edge of the building and hit the side with my free claw, retracted the baton, and made a series of short leaps from windowsill to windowsill until we arrived on the roof.

“Nice view,” Marinette said as we looked northward across the entire studio. 

“Some of the buildings from Walt’s time are still here,” I said. “We need the original animation building, I think.”

“Which one is it?” she asked, squinting into the now gathering dusk. 

I scanned the buildings with my better feline vision. “Those look like soundstages,” I said, using a claw to point out the boxy buildings to one side. “I think it’s that one in the distance, the one with the odd set of wings to it.”

“Why that one?” she said, as she re-wrapped herself around me.

“In those days, the animators needed as much natural light as possible,” I said as I trundled to the side of the building and launched us into the air. "That double-E design made sure the maximum number of people had northward light." We sailed over the thoroughfare and landed in two hops on the soundstage I’d identified. I spun up the baton and helicoptered to the next soundstage. “I don’t think they use it for animation anymore, but at the time, it was a radical idea in industrial design.”

“Walt came up with that?” she asked as I trotted past a series of solar panels and leapt to the final soundstage.

“No,” I said. “I think he knew who to ask about it, though.” I smiled. “I did a paper on him in high school. He was brilliant, but more importantly, he knew how to get brilliant people to think outside the box.”

I felt Marinette go rigid against me. 

“Mari, are you okay?” I asked, skidding to a stop at the edge of the roof.

“Yeah, fine,” she said, smiling weakly. “I could use some coffee,” she added.

“You and me both. Maybe we can find a canteen or something.” I smiled wider. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time an actor in costume had been seen at the buffet.”

I hopscotched several more buildings before landing at length on the roof of the animation building. I was reasonably certain we were in the right spot as this part of the studio smelled the oldest to me. The roof was in fairly good shape but really could have used a good coat of paint.

“I know it’s in here somewhere,” I said as I gently put Marinette down and then crouched. “I just don’t know exactly _where_.” I flipped open my baton and moved into data mode, seeing if I could tap into any building plans here in California. I normally had access to anything in Paris, but wasn’t sure if I could work the same magic outside of my home turf.

It took a moment but I was able to get a wireframe to appear. “Three-H,” I said. “It’s a suite at the far end of the building, third floor. There’s a roof-access stairwell there.”

I started to grab Marinette but missed her, causing me to skid to stop and turn. “Princess?” I asked as I returned to her side.

“You don’t have to answer this,” she said quietly. 

My feline ears went straight up.

“But…” she continued, “I have to know. Do we know each other?”

“Of course we do,” I answered, intentionally misunderstanding her question. I waved a paw in the air. “I’m, like, at your Bakery nearly every night.”

“No, not that – I mean, outside of the mask. Do I know you?”

I looked into her eyes in the fading light, her raven hair backlit in the warm glow of sunset. “Where is this going, Princess?” I asked. “You know I can’t reveal anything about my alter-ego.”

“That’s just it,” she muttered. “I think you did already.” Her eyes connected with mine again. “And I think I know you.”

"Princess," I said, taking full advantage of where we were, "we've met…"

Her eyes widened.

“…Once upon a dream, of course.”

The resulting smack to my chest was in good fun, but it broke the moment. “You’ll have to answer, sooner or later,” she laughed as we both started across the roof.

“I’m known for my slyness,” I cracked as we crossed over to the central wing and trotted together to the end of the building. “And I’ll evade you as long as I can.”

As I started to reach for the door to the stairwell, I was yanked back by my tail. “Ouch!” I cried.

Slowly, Marinette reeled me in until I was right in front of her; she made a quick move and somehow managed to wrap my tail around me, pinning my arms, then rotated me in her direction. 

She was far stronger than I realized. “Princess?” I said, slightly concerned.

Marinette reached up with her free hand and pulled my face down to hers. “I have ways to make you talk, Chat,” she said, sweetly, and then gently pressed her lips to mine. It was smoldering; my instinct was to resist, but my resolve melted and I willingly leaned into it.

She pulled back and I found myself flustered, my Chat persona temporarily shattered. I knew I liked her. Really, _really _liked her, but had never considered this possible dimension to our relationship. I also couldn’t recall (especially at that moment) what the status of her feelings for Adrien were; we’d never really made any hay on that front, and I knew she’d cycled though Luka at one point. 

Actually, it had been more than a cycle – Luka had crushed her pretty hard after what had been a long relationship; as Chat, I’d taken care not to be her rebound relationship while at the same time lending a feline ear or two to help her through the massive hurt she’d endured. I had some… extensive… experience in that department, after all. 

Was it even wise to be in a relationship as Chat, anyway?

I’d have to think about this. But not right now.

She flipped my tail back over my head, releasing me. For a fraction of a second, I’d wished she hadn’t. But we had things to do. “Good to know,” I said, after clearing my throat enough to actually speak.

Marinette nodded and we both turned back to the stairwell. The door was unlocked, oddly, and I kept her behind me as we crept down to the third floor. I cracked the door open to the hallway, and it, too was empty, possibly owing to the lateness of the hour. The baton was still in my hand, and I scanned quickly for cameras; this hallway was clear, but there were more than might be normally necessary at the far end.

That had to be where it was.

I put a claw tip to my lips. Marinette nodded and we crept down the hallway; at the cross hallway that led to the suite, I poked my head around the corner long enough to make the cameras, then pulled back.

“Cameras,” I said quietly. “I have a way to deal with them,” I continued as I repositioned the baton.

I reached around the hallway and pointed the baton at the cameras, clicking several pads on the lighted paw print. The baton happily chirped and iPlagg announced in my earwig: “Pulse complete. Starting twenty minute timer.”

Marinette’s eyes widened; I didn’t know until that moment that the virtual assistant voice would play in both receivers. “What was that?”

“I call it iPla—I mean, that’s the virtual assistant in my baton,” I hastily amended, thinking it might not have been a good idea to name it after my kwami. “Handy, right?”

“No kidding.”

“I’ve zapped the cameras in this hallway with an electromagnetic pulse, temporarily disabling them,” I explained as I skulked around the corner with her. “We have about twenty minutes before it wears off; thirty at most.”

“How did you get _that_ on the baton?” she asked, seriously annoyed now. “I mean, who _thinks_ of an EM pulse?”

I smiled. “I do,” I said simply. “It’s part of the magic that comes with the ring.”

At the end of the hallway, partially lit in what had to be some sort of evening mode, was a set of double doors straight out of the nineteen forties. Mostly glass but with wood accents, they had vaguely Art Deco flavored handrails. I could see that the space beyond was clear of people, and gently tested to see if the door was unlocked.

It wasn’t.

I sighed. “I really don’t want to break these,” I lamented. 

Marinette tugged at my costumed arm. “Can you zap that?” she asked, pointing to a small black square mounted on the wall. It had a red light across the top.

“Looks like a security badge reader,” I murmured. “Pulsing it probably won’t help,” I said, “but…”

I knelt down and examined the reader. It looked like one of the types that did near field reading. “Not a pulse,” I said, smiling my Chat smile as I flipped back into the menu on the baton. “I need a key…”

“Oh dear Lord,” she said. “That thing is a Swiss Army Knife.”

“Actually, that’s the one thing it doesn’t do,” I said, laughing quietly. “Got it,” I said, activating a program I’d picked up from an old high school friend years ago. His programming talents exceeded my own, and had even scored an internship with Microsoft at their offices in Paris – as a university freshman. I tried to visit him as Chat a few times each year just to see what new nefarious apps he could whip up for me. 

The baton starting singing to itself as it cycled through the possible frequencies it could use to trick the scanner into opening the door. It was a long shot and I had no idea if we had enough time.

“By the way,” I asked casually while we waited, “and this is not really the ideal time to discuss this, but are you currently seeing anyone?” I paused, intently focused on the baton’s scrolling data and trying to hide the rising color on my exposed cheeks. “That kiss back there might get this cat into trouble, if you know what I mean.”

“No,” she said quickly. “Unless I factor in your rather frequent visits, Chat.” She paused. “If I did, then I’d say, ‘yes.’”

My claw slipped on the menu, scrolling way past the last entry I wanted. “Ah,” I said. “There it is.” I turned my green eyes back toward her. “We _are_ going to have to deal with this, aren’t we,” I said, realizing that crouched in a hallway thousands of miles from Paris was not the ideal time to discover someone was in love with you.

“Yes,” she said simply, her eyes meeting mine easily. “So let’s hurry this one up so you we can talk over coffee.”

I smiled. “If we’re lucky, the next key will be in Paris and we can get some of your dad’s amazing blend.”

“You’ll always have Ladybug Luck on your side, Chat,” she said, quietly.

And with that, the light suddenly popped to green and the doors clicked open. “Open Sesame!” I said quietly as we stood together. I pulled the door open and slid through, still keeping Marinette behind me; the air pistons on the door gently closed it behind us, and the lock clicked.

We’d stepped into a time capsule; I wasn’t a huge Disney fan, but even what little I knew about the company and it’s founder was enough to make me appreciate what I was seeing. 

“What is that?” Marinette asked, pointing to a tall, mechanical device just to the side of the wooden secretarial desk we were looking at.

“Typewriter, I think,” I said, and pointed a claw at smaller device with a handset just next to it. “Rotary dial phone. Amazing.”

She frowned at the golden curtains behind the desk. “Those are hideous,” she observed. 

“But period-appropriate,” I pointed out. “Walt Disney passed away in 1966; this is supposed to be exactly the way the office looked back then.”

“Still…” she trailed off.

I turned and opened a door that had clearly been protected by whoever had once sat at that secretarial desk, and in a few steps found myself in Disney’s formal office. I took just a minor moment to appreciate the history of the space, lovingly preserved by the company he had founded.

The desk itself was directly in front of us, with a set of shelves behind it holding an amazing variety of figurines, mostly from the movies that had been made up to the time of his death. Photos and artwork of his two daughters had pride of place on the wall behind. I stepped further in, passing the grand piano I knew had been used to demo pieces that were being considered for his productions; luminaries such as the Sherman Brothers had sat behind those ivory keys, and my inner Adrien wistfully wanted to run my clawtips along the ivory just to say I’d done it.

A small sitting area was between the piano and the desk, with a couch built into the very Art Deco rounded walls; a massive bookcase sat behind the piano and had thousands of volumes in it. I’d need more time than we had to fully appreciate the voracity of Walt’s reading habit.

“See anything familiar?” Marinette asked, her voice reverentially quiet. The space had affected her too.

“No,” I said, quickly scanning the space. “But this is not the only office,” I added, using a claw tip to indicate the door on the far wall. “I bet it’s in there.”

“What’s that space?”

“This—” I indicated where we were with my paws, “—is Walt’s formal office. He used it to greet dignitaries, sign actors, that sort of thing. That—” I pointed to the other door, “—is his working office.”

“All right,” she nodded. “So far, so good,” she added. “I’m surprised we’ve not encountered anything.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I said as I approached the door, made sure she was safely behind me, and pushed it open.

The inner sanctum was just as quiet as the outer, again perfectly staged to make it look like Walt had just stepped out for a bit and would be returning shortly. His working desk was in the corner beneath two windows, and was loaded with paper: scripts, documents, memos; all sorts of the items he would’ve been dealing with as a major movie studio mogul. I turned slightly and saw the massive photo map of Disneyland on a bulletin board over the coach, which would have been barely ten years old at the time he passed.

It was almost mind-boggling to think how big the company that bore his name now was. I idly wondered what he might say if he were able to visit his future and see what had transpired. I knew his original plans for Florida (which were pinned next to the Disneyland map) had been very different than what was there today.

And there, pinned next to the Florida Project site plan, was what I thought I’d remembered. “That’s it!” I said, unintentionally leaping onto the couch, cat-like, to get closer to the item.

“Bad kitty!” Marinette said. “Get off the couch, Chat!”

“Oh – sorry,” I said, quickly rolling back off and standing on the shag carpet. “Come look at this.”

She peered around me. It was a small three-by-five postcard, showing two very young soldiers. One was clearly Walt Disney; the backdrop of the photo was the recognizable Eiffel Tower. She looked back at me. “He was in Paris?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I remember now! Walt drove an ambulance during the first World War; he spent a lot of time in France, and ended the war in Paris. I saw this in the exhibition – he’d made a series of these photo postcards to send back home to his family. It was something the soldiers did at the time.”

Marinette looked at her phone. “We’ve got about ten minutes left for this hour,” she said. “We don’t have much time to keep looking; are you sure it’s this?”

“It’s just intuition,” I said honestly, “but yes.”

She smiled. “I trust you.”

I looked at her again and could see it in her eyes. “All right – here goes nothing.” I raised my hand. “Cataclysm!” I cried, thinking perhaps I should have toned it down for the space.

Once I was charged up as it were, I hesitated for just a moment. 

_This will get back here, Walt, _I thought. _I don’t know how, but it will. I promise._

I touched the postcard.

It became outlined in white, plucked itself off the bulletin board, and floated in space just a few centimeters away from my hand; the green-black whirlpool appeared and in a shower of fireworks, it _poofed_ into whatever dimension I was storing the Keys.

Our portal appeared, this time swirling in the center of the room.

“Good guess,” Marinette smiled. 

“Yes,” I said. “Now we have time for coffee, assuming whatever is on the other side of this portal has it.”

She laughed. “Here’s hoping.”

I took her by the paw and we leapt into the swirling power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ep's Handy Cliff Notes(tm) for Keys:
> 
> Chat Noir has partnered with Marinette to retrieve the twelve Keys to Paris. These Keys, which are scattered throughout the world, can, when brought together, unlock a magical device that is capable of controlling all Miraculouses. Each Key has a specific tie to Paris or France, though the exact connection is not always obvious.
> 
> The duo has thirteen hours to find the twelve Keys and get them to Ladybug, who is the only Miraculous holder capable of permanently disabling the Keys and putting the device out of reach forever. If they miss a Key, or are unable to disable all twelve by hour thirteen, the puzzle resets, the Keys all return to their original places, and they start all over again.
> 
> While pursuing the Keys, Chat’s Cataclysm can be used once per hour to remove a Key from it’s hiding place and store it in a special space/time vault that only he can access. For thirteen hours, he does not need to regenerate Plagg; in fact, if he de-transforms, he will lose the path to the next Key. Similarly, Ladybug is only able to use her special Lucky Charm once to disable all of the Keys. 
> 
> Hawkmoth is also tracking the Keys, and if he obtains even one, they will be unable to complete their quest.


	4. 0500 to 0600 (Paris Time)

This time around, we managed to step out of the portal at a trot, landing softly on some sort of English-style country road. It was dusky, like we were just in the early part of dawn, and the air was moist and clammy. I didn’t generally get chilled while I was Chat, but knew that Marinette’s Parisian attire was going to get damp and cold in a hurry.

Without thinking, I immediately wrapped myself around Marinette, who had already started to shiver, and tried to pass on some warmth to her. “Where are we?” she asked. “This doesn’t look like the coffee shop you promised me.”

“Sorry about that, Princess,” I said, scanning the tract. My green-gray night vision saw we were once more standing close to some sort of wide, grassy area; there were buildings some distance away from us. It was very dark, making me think we were in the country; oddly, though, the salty tang of the ocean was still reaching my feline nose, though as much as I strained my feline hearing, I wasn’t able to hear surf.

“An island, maybe?” I said. “We’re pretty high up, though.” 

Keeping the bulk of my body wrapped around her like a Chat cloak, I slid the baton out and thumbed it open one-pawed. For the first time in ages, it failed to connect to a data network, which in itself, told me something. “Google won’t save us this time,” I muttered as I flipped it closed and slid it back behind my back.

“Based on the last three keys, I’d assume we are within easy walking distance of where we need to be,” Marinette observed. The worst of her shivering had stopped, and I tried to ignore how strong her vanilla-sugar-spice scent had become in the heavy air.

“When all else fails,” I said, “walk forward.”

We continued down the road, which was in truth no wider than a wagon might have needed back in the day, confirming for me that the location had been established at a time when motor vehicles didn’t roam the earth. And considering the signs were on the wrong side of the road, it felt more and more like we were either in Great Britain, or an old British Empire outpost. I paused and try to see the night sky. I didn’t know enough about stargazing to know for sure, but the constellations looked different than what I’d normally see while soaring through Paris at midnight.

Not Great Britain, then. 

“Chat,” Marinette said as I ruminated. “Can we take a moment to get back to the question of the hour?” She paused, laughing, “Well, I suppose it was the question from the _last_ hour.”

“I’ve already told you, Marinette,” I started. “I can’t reveal who I am; it would put you into danger, not to mention Ladybug would kill me.”

“I realize that,” she replied. “But humor me for a moment. After all, I’m kind of part of this now.”

I sighed. Deep down, I knew I was constitutionally unable to deny her anything. “All right. But I warn you, I may not give you the answer you want. Or I might lie.”

“You? _Lie_?” she laughed heartily. “I’d like to see the day.”

_You’d be surprised_, I thought. “Ask away.”

“Do I know you, outside the mask?”

I thought about that. Answering truthfully would lead her to start reviewing who she knew in her life, and I was well aware that it was a very short list of people she felt close to. Adrien was one, of course, even though her crush on my alter-ego had faded with time. We were solid friends, though, and I suspected if I answered with too much detail, she’d figure me out. But she was right. Aside from the necessary lies I’d had to tell to protect my secret identity, I was pretty bad at prevaricating in general.

I sighed. “Yes,” I said after thinking.

“Do I know you well?”

“Yes.”

That made her pause. “And I’ve not figured out you’re Chat, yet?”

“No,” I said. “I’m pretty good at hiding in plain sight, Princess.”

We continued down the lane, and I wrapped myself a little bit closer around her.

“Did we go to the same school?”

“That would seem to be obvious,” I laughed.

She punched me in the rib. “Are we going to the same University this fall?”

“Yes.”

“How long, _exactly_, have I known you?”

That was going to be a tricky answer, since I’d met her the same day I became holder of the Cat Miraculous; my first day of real public school four and half very long years ago. I might be able to throw her off the track with a clever answer, but I was also not entirely certain I didn’t want her to figure out who I was.

I started to answer, but my ears picked up something ahead of us. “Hold that thought,” I said instead. 

We were standing next to a high wall at that point, and taking her into my arms, I leapt up to the edge. Balancing both of us at the top of the wall, I turned toward what I thought I’d heard. 

Hawkmoth was coming down the road in our direction; I’d recognize that outfit anywhere. An amorphous glow topped his cane, which he was using to light his path. He was trailed by Burnham Wood incarnate – a forest of trees lumbered toward us, and it was quite the sight. “Uh oh,” I whispered to Marinette. “We have an unwelcome addition to the landing party.”

“Who?” she asked, gently reminding me that only one of us had night vision.

“Hawkmoth in the flesh.”

Marinette looked wildly around. “Where is he heading?”

“Toward us,” I said. I swiveled on the fence and we dropped together on the inside. “He hasn’t seen us yet, but clearly he’s on the hunt, too.”

“We already have three,” she said as we quickly scampered along the fence.

“Yeah, but if he is able to get even one, the game’s off and we’ll have to start over.”

“Right,” she said. “I’m more worried about the fact he was able to track one to this location.”

I nodded. “Hold that thought and sit tight for a moment.”

I leapt back to the top of the fence. The trees had planted themselves in a dense thicket at the end of a cross road, blocking any traffic from entering the gap in the gates we’d been unintentionally wandering toward. I couldn’t be sure, but it appeared they had stopped. 

I looked back to Marinette. “He seems to want some privacy,” I said. “He’s blocked the entrance with those trees to whatever is on the _inside_ of this fence.”

“That seems like an awfully big hint as to where the Key is.”

I dropped back to the ground beside her in a crouch. “I hate to say this, but he might have done us a favor. C’mon, let’s see what he’s found.”

Taking her by the hand, we quickly ran across another field and had to drop to the grass next to the driveway; I covered Marinette completely and fervently hoped my costume didn’t reflect the dark sky. Hawkmoth was striding purposefully up the tract and toward a building in the distance, having left his backup band on the outer roadway.

I popped my head up. “There’s some sort of bungalow up ahead,” I whispered. “There’s a small sign in front of it, but even with my feline sight, I can’t quite make it out.”

“He’s headed that way?” Marinette asked.

“Yes, he’s going up the front steps now.” I watched him do something with his cane and blow the front doors off the building. “Subtle,” I added. 

“Not his strong suit,” Marinette added.

I raised a masked eyebrow. To my knowledge, this was the first time she’d interacted with him. I filed that away. “Well, nothing for it,” I said. “Let’s see if he’s onto something.”

Carefully crouched, and with Marinette behind me, we crept up the driveway and reached a point where it opened up into a grand circle; just beyond was the portico Hawkmoth had entered. Small lanterns softly lit the bungalow and the immediate driveway, chasing away some of the gloom. I paused at the verge, picking up on something undefinably wrong but unable to pinpoint it.

Marinette let out a startled cry and leapt into the air, amazingly coming down on my back, hands wrapped around my shoulders. I had no idea she could leap that far, but had no time to react; something had grabbed me by the ankle and started to yank. I looked down, and my heart skipped a beat.

Hands, hundreds of them, had started to emerge from the ground. The one that had my ankle was slowly dragging my boot into the dirt, a feat I wouldn’t have thought possible without some sort of magical assistance. I managed to disentangle my boot, but not before two hands wrapped themselves around the other ankle. Their touch was like steel, and I had great difficulty pulling away from them.

I stumbled forward, off-balance with the weight of Marinette on my back, and fell face first onto the ground. Marinette rolled off me at the last minute and was sitting a few meters ahead of me.

“Get to the building!” I said as I struggled to get back up. Like Gulliver, though, I was quickly pinned to the ground.

“Not on your life, kitty,” Marinette said, a fire in her eyes. Deftly, she danced her way around the grasping appendages, and dove over my back, snagging the baton in the process and rolling into her own version of the cat-crouch. “How do I extend this?” she asked.

“Uh,” I said, at a loss. Typically it just happened when I needed it. “Grip it at the center,” I said, “and maybe I can do it – oof! – for you.”

“Got it!”

In my mind, I simply thought about the baton being extended the way I would if I were wielding it myself. I was rewarded with the metallic _shush_ it made when doing so.

“Perfect!”

Dancing once more, she deftly whacked back enough of the hands grasping me that I was able to free my torso; pushing up, I pulled away from the ones along my legs. Marinette hopped over some blindly grasping hands, tossing me the shortened baton, and then leapt into my arms. I jammed the baton down in front of us and hung on as it raised us into the air. Moving our weight forward, I tipped it over and arced down to softly land us on the steps of the portico.

“Thanks,” I said as I retracted the baton and we turned back to survey the strange field of waving hands we had narrowly gotten through. “How did Hawkmoth get through _that_?”

“He’s not wearing the triggered Miraculous,” Marinette observed. “That’s a point in his favor, perhaps. Each of these Keys is expecting you and me—I mean, Ladybug.”

“But he is _wearing_ a Miraculous,” I countered as we turned up the steps. “If we consider he got through the trap out there and knows where to look, Hawkmoth seems to understand more about what we’re doing than we do. Or he’s using magic I’ve never encountered before.”

A flash emanated from inside the space Hawkmoth had entered, lighting up the teal wrought iron that enclosed the porch. That couldn’t be good.

“Do you recognize this place at all?” I asked. 

“Not in the least,” Marinette replied. 

The wind was picking up again, flipping my tail wildly behind me; Marinette yelped when it smacked her in the thigh. For just a moment, she had the same face I used to make when Ladybug inadvertently hit me over the mane with her yo-yo. I tried not to smirk while simultaneously wondering why I was thinking so much about Ladybug.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I usually control it better.”

Carefully we crept across the patio, picking our way around what was left of the wooden doors; the space beyond was dimly lit, but my night vision picked up all of the accoutrement of some sort of museum. There was a small plaque to the left of the door – the one I’d seen from the road, but couldn’t read. It said, simply, _Longwood House_.

I pointed it out to Marinette. “Ring any bells?”

“I feel like it should,” she murmured quietly. “It came up in history class, didn’t it?”

I shook my mane. “If it did, it was some sort of footnote I’ve long since forgotten.”

Just inside the door was a small glass display case, partially smashed now, containing what appeared to be nineteenth century artifacts; the wider space acted as a drawing room, with a couch and several chairs arranged around a low matching coffee table.

The entire space had been trashed, though. Hawkmoth was not searching very thoughtfully.

Marinette stooped down and picked up a freestanding kiosk and righted it, then began reading it to me, quietly. “Drawing room as it appeared in 1821 on the day Napoleon died…” she swiftly turned to me. “Napoleon? _The_ Napoleon?”

“Longwood House! That would be our connection.” I re-scanned the space. Aside from the furniture and minimalist trappings, nothing seemed _French_ enough in the space to be our key. “We must be on St. Helena, where he was exiled. The date certainly would point to that.”

“But what is the Key?” she hissed. “It must not be in this space, unless Hawkmoth has it already.”

“If he did, the portal would have appeared,” I reminded her. “So we’re still in the running.”

A monumental crash issued from space ahead and to our left; there was a small, matching space to the right. I figured he’d not had time to check both sides yet, grabbed Marinette and hurled us through the open doorway and into what appeared to be another sitting room. It was more intimate, though, and felt like it might have been a private study.

Movie theater-style stanchions had been erected around a long, chaise-like couch; a jacket, and a traditional French tricornered hat were carefully arranged upon it, making it feel like the General himself had just dropped them on his way through the space. The entire exhibit was enclosed in a plexiglass display case.

Another crash, closer to us, reverberated through the space. I turned to Marinette. “Hat or coat?” I asked.

“Why do you think it’s either?”

“They are the least obvious items in the space,” I reasoned. “So far, that has been our pattern with the Keys. And,” I nodded toward them with my head, “they are both French designs.”

“Chat, they could just be replicas - we can’t be sure they belonged to Napoleon!”

“I’m betting they’re his.” I looked at her again. “Hat or coat?”

Marinette looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Hat,” she said, “Lord help me. Hat.”

I extended my baton, apologized profusely to the museum director, and took several swings at the display case. It fractured apart on one side, giving me just enough space to reach a paw inside.

“Cataclysm!” I cried, and barely waited long enough for the power to hit my fingers before touching the hat. At the same moment, the wall between our space and the one we’d come through blasted apart, and Hawkmoth was standing there, fury in his eyes.

The hat took on the white glow that was by now familiar, lifted off the couch and did the fireworks-to-portal dance, _poofing_ away before any of us had a chance to react. Time slowed down as I watched Hawkmoth raise his cane and attempt to fire something toward me; there was no way to avoid being hit, and I tensed up.

Marinette tackled me sideways, directly into the portal that had opened next to me.

My last view was of a very angry Hawkmoth, hurling himself toward the closing portal.


	5. 0600 to 0700 (Paris Time)

I fell out of the portal and on top of Marinette, creating an ungainly pile of entangled limbs. Once more we appeared to be in a grassy field, this one closely mowed and damp with dew. As I carefully pulled myself away from my partner in crime, I found myself wishing that we would wind up in someplace more tropical, at least once, before returning to Paris.

My mind snapped back to the here-and-now, remembering that Hawkmoth had been diving in after us at our last stop in St. Helena. I popped into my pounce-crouch, baton at the ready, and slowly circled around Marinette. Wherever we were, the sky was brightening with the first rays of daylight. Scanning the field, I realized we were actually in the middle of a golf fairway, and most fortunately, it was just the two of us.

At the far end was the green, and I could just make out the number eighteen on it. That would mean we were on the final hole of some golf course; given the stone-faced clubhouse just behind the hole, it didn’t take much thought to place us at a very, _very_ old golf course. Not knowing the exact time, I had to assume that we would see early golfers on the fairway at some point; we’d need to move.

I pulled myself out of the crouch and semi-stood, lending a paw to Marinette to help her up. “Are you okay?” I asked as she dusted some stray blades of grass off her blouse. “And thanks, by the way.”

“I’m good,” she said, “though it’s going to be murder to get the grass stains out of this outfit.”

“If anyone can figure out how to clean it, it’s you, Marinette,” I laughed. 

“Easy for you to say,” she rejoindered. “You don’t have to worry while wearing that costume of yours.”

“True,” I nodded. “Looks like Hawkmoth narrowly missed our window.”

“Small favors,” Marinette said. “I still want to know how he was able to locate that Key, and more importantly, how he could travel there as quickly as we did.” She paused. “He’s got to be working on the same thirteen-hour clock. I’m surprised that was the first time we crossed paths.”

“Yeah,” I said as we started to walk down the fairway toward the stone building. “We must have missed each other by fractions. We have to assume he’ll be dogging us now.”

“Hey!” we heard in a thickly accented English. “Wha’ are you doing out there?”

I turned – I’d been focused on my conversation with Marinette and hadn’t heard the groundskeeper approach us. He was dressed in a standard outfit, and was striding toward us, purposefully. He didn’t seem all that surprised to see a man-sized cat standing on the fairway.

“Sorry,” I said as he approached, switching to English and putting on my best friendly Chat smile. “We were out for a walk in this beautiful light and got a little lost.” I shrugged, innocently, and made a quick guess. “We’re trying to get back to the University,” I apologized. “We’re exchange students, and just got in yesterday,” I added, allowing a bit more of my French accent in. “Are we close?”

“No,” he said tartly, “that’s th’ Old Course Clubhouse. It’ll no’ be open fer hours,” he added with a distinct brogue. He pointed in the opposite direction. “St. Andrews is off tha’ way, aboot a mile o so.”

_Scotland, then_, I thought. “Merci, my friend,” I said, bowing, tail swishing, still awed that he’d not even commented on my attire. Maybe all exchange students in this part of the universe were considered odd. “This way, Princess,” I continued in English, gently leading Marinette away from the frowning groundskeeper. Once we were far enough away, he dropped to his knees to examine where we’d been standing, making me wonder if he was apologizing to each blade of grass for our transgression. Such devotion.

“We’ll go around this way,” I said quietly, swapping back to French. “I have a furling our next Key is inside that clubhouse.”

Marinette was already on her phone, pulling up anything she could find about St. Andrews. “Golf and France don’t exactly go together,” she said. “But we’re in Scotland. That has to mean something.”

This adventure was seriously stretching my knowledge of French history. “While you do that, I’m going to check in with Mast—I mean, my contact in Paris.”

She nodded, engrossed in her phone.

I popped open the baton and speed dialed Master Fu. His image immediately appeared. “Chat Noir,” he said.

“We’re back on the other side of the Atlantic,” I started. “So far, we’ve obtained four Keys, but the last one was a bit close – Hawkmoth had nearly gotten it.” I paused. “Have you located Ladybug?”

“Yes,” Master Fu said. “She’s fine and will rejoin you once you arrive in Paris.”

I nodded. “I see you also suspect one or more of the Keys are there.”

“Yes, Chat,” he smiled. “I think Hawkmoth may have found one here, which is what triggered the summons.”

My masked eyes widened. “You think he has one already?”

“Yes,” Fu replied. “What’s more, I think he might use it to try and lure you and Ladybug into a trap.”

I nodded again. “To get the rest of the Keys we’ve collected. Clever.”

“Be very careful, Chat. We have no idea when Hawkmoth will make his next move.”

“I have to believe it would be back in Paris,” I said. “It would make more sense, since it’s ‘home field’ for him.”

Master Fu smiled. “A wise observation, my young superhero.”

“Not all that young anymore, Master,” I smiled.

He laughed. “Compared to me, _everyone_ is young. Keep in touch.”

I smiled again and clicked off the connection. As we rounded the edge of the long building and came out on a graveled path, Marinette paused and looked up at me. Her face was flushed for some reason.

“Mari?” I asked. “What is it?”

“Scotland got me thinking about a series of novels that take place here – well, not here, exactly, but in Scotland in general. They deal with a time-travelling nurse who meets up with a handsome Scottish Lord…” she trailed off, looking into space, and cleared her throat.

“Handsome?” I asked, smirking. “Like, romance-novel-cover handsome?”

The flush went crimson. “Anyway, the important point I was making is that the early portions of the series deal with the Jacobite uprising in the mid seventeen hundreds,” she said.

I looked at her, and arched a masked eyebrow. “Still not seeing a connection.”

“The short version is that Charles Stuart – or Bonnie Prince Charles as he was called here – tried to fund the Scottish forces that were attempting to restore him to the throne and break Scotland away from Great Britain. He was in exile—”

“Ah. In Paris, right?”

“—exactly, and had raised funds from his supporters there.”

“That’s all part of the book?”

“Yes, and most of it is historically accurate.” She returned to her phone with a purpose, searching, and then smiled. “Here it is. ‘Although never located, it’s rumored that the gold Charles sent to Scotland was hidden in plain sight, carefully used to further their goals.’”

“Princess, we’re standing on a golf course,” I pointed out, a bit exasperated. “Still not seeing how this connects.”

“That’s my point – something here at St. Andrews contains that gold – even if it’s just a small piece.”

I looked back at the building. Considering we had less than an hour (I checked the baton, we were down to about forty minutes), there was a lot of space to search. “We have to narrow it down a bit,” I said, masked eyes wide. “And so far, most everything has been pretty innocuous.”

Traffic was lightly moving along the roadway we were standing next to; again, no one seemed to give a passing glance to a superhero standing in their midst. My ego was shriveling. The Scots seemed to be inured to the unusual; then again, living at this end of the world had created a hearty folk who appeared capable of handling anything thrown at them. 

Marinette was looking at the building as well, thoughtfully. “Do you think we could assume that whatever they might have done with that gold, they would want to simultaneously have it public, so their followers would know, but also make it an inside secret kept from those they opposed?”

I scratched my chin with a claw. “Hide it in plain sight,” I nodded. “The British wouldn’t know, but the locals would. I see your point.”

“Come on,” she said, and started back toward the eighteenth green.

“Princess—” I started, but she was off at a trot. Once she had her mind set, she was very much like Ladybug and on point. I had to hustle to keep up.

We rounded the corner and the groundskeeper was missing; Marinette didn’t pause and angled toward the back of the building, pausing a few meters from the base. “That,” she said, pointing.

I followed her hand. It was a nice, ordinary looking clock, mounted to the side of the stone edifice. “As Keys go, that one is pretty normal looking,” I said, not entirely convinced.

“Hey!” came a familiar brogue. 

_How had I not heard him? Again?_

Concerned, I turned, and my eyes widened. Now there were five groundskeepers, all identically dressed, all exactly the same.

All glaring at us.

I pulled Marinette behind me. “So much for my doubts,” I said, as I pulled out the baton and extended it into staff mode. 

“Get away from the building,” all five said to us. As I watched, five more came from the ether, fading in from nothingness. I couldn’t be sure, having not seen a ghost before, but these seemed to fit the bill.

I looked at my baton, and figured it would be somewhat ineffective against something so ephemeral. “Guys,” I said, adjusting it downward so I could use elevator mode, “look, there must be some sort of misunderstanding here.”

The moved closer. “Get away from the building.”

“Chat,” Marinette whispered. “They’re behind us, too.”

I turned slightly. We were ringed now. 

_No wonder I couldn’t hear them. They don’t actually walk, do they?_

“Grab me,” I said to Marinette. “We’re going up, _now_.”

She did, whispering in my feline ear, “Won’t they follow?”

“Probably,” I said, as I triggered the baton and we moved upward, rising up to the roof over the clock and gently falling toward the building. I leapt off the baton and retracted it as we made a two-point landing on the slate roof. 

So far, we were alone.

I peered over the edge. The green was filled now with groundskeepers, all looking up at us. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up straight. I leaned back. “Well, I seem to have angered them a bit.”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“This is going to be tricky,” I said. “I think I can claw down to the clock and release it, but that means I have to leave you here, unprotected.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Lend me your baton just in case, though.”

I handed it to her and it extended into staff mode again. Then, on impulse, I leaned down and kissed her. “Be safe until I get back, Princess,” I said.

“I will, kitty,” she answered.

I continued to ignore her use of Ladybug’s endearment, and instead went over the side of the roof, carefully driving my claws into the stone. It only took a few moments for me to be hanging next to it. I raised my hand. “Cata---”

“Look out!” I heard in my earwig. With the split-second warning, I curled away from the clock, narrowly missing a fusillade of golf balls. A second wave hit their target, peppering my back, hard, like Tiger Woods was using me as a driving range target. The third wave pummeled me and I lost my grip, falling ingloriously a few meters before managing to drive my claws back into the stone.

“Ow,” was all I could say. “That kind of hurts.”

“Chat? Can you move?” The concern in Marinette’s voice came through the earwig loud and clear.

“Yeah,” I said, breathing easy for a moment. I pulled myself back toward the clock. When I was within arm’s length, the pummeling began again, and this time I ducked down low enough to avoid the worst of it.

_Time for something more acrobatic_, I realized.

“Princess, can you extend the baton over the edge?”

“Yes,” she said, “but I won’t be able to brace it very well.”

“I just need something to spring from,” I said. “Ready?”

“On it,” I heard in my ear. I looked up and saw the baton extend over the apex of the roof.

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered. 

I took a breath and loosed my ring hand. “Cataclysm!” I cried, and waited as the power arrived in my fingertips. Bracing my boots against the stone, I pressed hard and hurled myself upward, fast, brushing my fingers along the clock as I rose past it. The golf ball pummeling came, but my momentum took me above it quickly. Arms outstretched, I hit the baton and swirled around it in a giant loop, releasing at the top of the rotation and angling back down to where Marinette was sitting.

I landed in a crouch beside her, breathing slightly heavily.

I didn’t have to look over the edge; the white light surrounding the clock had lit up the space, followed by the requisite fireworks as the clock moved into my virtual storage locker. 

“Ten out of ten for the landing,” Marinette chuckled. “Especially given the level of difficulty.”

I took the baton from her proffered hand. “Thanks, Princess.” This time, I did peek over the edge and the clock was gone. I looked around, though, and didn’t see our portal, and raised a masked eyebrow. “What did we do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Marinette said, as the portal finally appeared – about fifteen meters in front of us, and twenty above the grass.

“That’s new,” I muttered. “Hang on,” I said as I started to coil up for a leap.

“Just a second,” she said. “You never answered my question last hour.”

I looked at her, masked eyes wide. “Is this really the time?” I asked, using a feline ear to indicate the portal. “We don’t know how long that will stay open.”

“Then answer quickly,” she said. “How long have I known your alter-ego?”

“Long enough,” I said, making a move to grab her and go. She danced away from me, smoothly. “Marinette, _really_—”

“_How long?_” she asked, firmly.

I sighed. “Four years, six months.”

She nodded, seeming to confirm something. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Somewhat more forcefully than I’d intended, I grabbed her and vaulted smoothly into the swirling portal.


	6. 0700 to 0800 (Paris Time)

I admit I was a bit angry as we popped out of the portal, but had no time to act on it. I missed our landing and tumbled gracelessly across the hard, rocky surface we’d been deposited on. Marinette rolled away from me, and I heard her curse (which was very unusual). We came to rest a few meters from each other; I wound up on my back, looking at the dark, starry sky. In fact, it was so dark, my enhanced night vision was seeing stars and wide swaths of the Milky Way that I’d never seen before.

It was also frigid.

I rolled over onto all fours, did a quick inventory and found no damage, and took a mini-leap to the side of Marinette. She, on the other hand, had a horrible tear in her pants, with a long scrape to match. Her hands had deflected the rest of the blow and were sporting a nasty road rash. 

“OhMyGod Princess,” I said in a rush. “I’m sorry! I didn’t have you wrapped up—”

She cursed again, and I felt my ears flatten automatically. She caught the movement and tried for a wan smile. “Not for you,” she said, as I helped her up. “It’s my own fault for pushing you back there in Scotland.”

“No, this is on me,” I said honestly. “It’s my responsibility to keep you safe. I was blinded for a moment; it won’t happen again.” I lifted her into my arms and held her close. “Let’s find someplace a little smoother, shall we?” I said as I trotted across the wide, rocky plateau. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Just my ego,” she said. “And don’t worry, I heal pretty quickly,” she added absently.

“Just like a Miraculous holder, eh?” I joshed.

Marinette tensed in my arms, and then relaxed. “Not quite,” she said, a bit too quickly.

I paused, finding I had to catch my breath despite only having trotted a few hundred meters. “Princess,” I huffed, “is there anything you would like to tell me?”

“Uh, no, Chat,” she said.

“Huh,” I said, trying hard not to bend over in agony. Why was I having trouble?

I continued forward, slower, feeling like I was slogging through molasses for some reason. There hadn’t been many destinations to choose from, but there was a squat industrial type building attached to a strange spheroid one; the sphere had been cleaved, and a red glow was emanating from the opening.

I stopped at the edge of a small parking area that had a single, beat-up pickup truck, and gently put Marinette down; I had to put paws-on-knees to try and get my wind back. Marinette had put her hand on my back, concerned, but I waved her off. “I’ll… I’ll be fine…” I gasped. 

She slipped my baton out and clicked it open; somehow, she’d seen enough of how I’d been using it that she quickly managed to get to the GPS system. “No wonder,” she said. “We’re on top of a mountain, if this is right.”

I looked at the screen as she turned it toward me. “Mauna… Kea?” I gasped. “Hawaii? Four… thousand meters?! Holy… cannoli…” I said. 

“Yeah.” She looked at me. “We can’t stay here long, Chat. We’re not acclimatized.”

It took a few more precious minutes for me to regain my breath, the two of us just staring at each other until I was back under control. Aside from a few times where I’d been hurled into the upper atmosphere by an akuma, I’d not left the comfortable elevations of Paris’s skyline. Ever. High altitude training might be a plus at some point…

“No internet here,” Marinette said at length. “I think we are lucky your GPS locator worked.”

“Might not need it,” I said. “There can’t be much here to search.”

“This has to be a research telescope,” Marinette said. “As with everything else, what is the connection?”

I was looking over her shoulder, and smiled. “I have a hunch,” I said, paraphrasing from one of my favorite _Star Trek_ movies, “we’ll find what we’re looking for at the Canada-France-Hawaii telescope.”

“How do you know this?” Marinette said, unintentionally quoting the very next line of the movie.

“Simple logic,” I laughed, pointing with a claw tip to the sign off to the side of the squat building.

She turned, read the sign, and turned back. “Seriously? You could have just said that we were at a French telescope.”

“This was more fun,” I replied. “Come on, let’s see if we can break in.”

We crossed the lot to the main entrance, which surprisingly was unlocked. It occurred to me that we were some distance from any sort of civilization, and the scientists who normally worked up here likely had no visitors – and little worry that someone would be doing what we were doing. Nonetheless, given that multiple Keys now had tried to defend themselves, I pulled the door open carefully, and kept Marinette safely behind me. I kept the baton in my hand, too, just in case.

The door let into a hallway that in turn opened into a set of offices, all cluttered with scientific looking paraphernalia. No one appeared to be around, although my feline sense of smell could detect a coffee pot that had been sitting on the hot plate too long somewhere close. I raised a masked eyebrow. 

“This way,” I said, leading Marinette unerringly into a cramped breakroom of sorts. The offending coffee maker was in the corner, with a half-full pot of likely engine oil steaming away idly. I located two Styrofoam cups and poured the sludge out for us. “Any port in a storm,” I said, handing one to Marinette.

She sipped and grimaced. “This is terrible,” she said.

I took my own sip and tried not to choke. “It is,” I replied, sipping again, “but we need something. I’ve been going since about three _yesterday_ morning.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Akuma?”

“No,” I said. “Redeye from—ah, well, let’s just say I was up pretty late.”

_That was close._ But I could tell from her eyes that she’d picked up on something.

“Where were you last week?” she asked.

“Away,” I said quickly.

“With Ladybug?” she asked. 

The way she asked it triggered my warning bells. “No,” I said, wondering if she was trying to trap me in a lie. As we’ve already established, I’m not very good on that front, so it wouldn’t be hard. “This was a solo adventure.”

She sipped again. “I’m surprised you felt comfortable leaving Paris,” she said casually. “Leaving Ladybug solo like that seems counter to your… mission.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I didn’t feel comfortable at all, Princess,” I replied. 

I thought back to my conversation with Ladybug the night before I left for Nice. I’d had to leave – as a supermodel, you go where the work sends you; my arrangement with Father was that the money I earned modelling was mine, free and clear, so there was a bit of an inducement for me to continue to take the gigs. I had a trust fund, of course, but it came with strings attached and constant pressure from Father to give up on college and simply work for the family company. Modelling also generally allowed me the freedom to be Chat Noir on his schedule, unlike a more regimented nine-to-five part time position.

The Nice assignment had been last minute, and I’d had no way to truly explain to Ladybug why I’d needed to leave Paris. She’d understood, mostly, but in the end, I was sure she’d felt like I’d let her down. And it bothered me.

I took a chance. “My alter-ego has a job that sometimes requires unexpected location work,” I said, trying for both general and specific. I sipped the terrible coffee. “I couldn’t tell Ladybug exactly why I had to leave without revealing who I really am.”

I sighed. “I know it upset her. I’d planned on making it up to her; she loves the cannoli from Phillipe’s Bistro, and I was going to spring some on her during patrol tonight.” I smiled. “Actually, I’d pre-ordered a complete lasagna dinner. It’s one of her favorites.”

Marinette put a hand to my arm. “That’s sweet,” she said, smiling. “And while I can’t speak for her, I think she probably would have understood. You might want to be a little more specific with her in the future, though.”

“I can’t tell her exactly—”

“I’m not saying you should,” she said. “Just say something like you just said to me.”

I smiled, somewhat tiredly. It had been a long day. “Sound advice,” I said. 

There was a crash at the doorway. “Chat… _Chat Noir?_” came a voice, in clear French.

We both turned. A young-ish man wearing a lab coat was standing in the doorway, and had dropped his coffee mug. “Yes,” I said, “in the fur.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, eyes wild with fear. “Is there an akuma?” 

Marinette quickly made her way over to him. “No,” she said, “everything is just fine. I’m Marinette. What’s your name?”

“Sebastian,” he said, eyes darting between us. “Are you sure—”

“Yes,” I said, kneeling down to pick up the shards of his mug. “We could use your help, actually.”

“My help?” he said. He seemed to have calmed down slightly. “Usually when you show up in Paris—”

“I know,” I sighed. “The world is generally coming to an end. Not _exactly_ the case this time,” I said. “But it’s nice that you recognized me.”

“How could anyone _not_?” he exclaimed. “Can I get a photo with you?”

“Sure,” I said. “But first, we’re looking for something that has a connection to Paris.”

Sebastian looked me. “Like what?”

“That’s the issue,” Marinette said. “We’re not entirely sure. Is there anything on site that is from Paris? A special dedication item, a photo, some sort of award…?”

We both looked at him, expectantly. Sebastian shriveled under our withering glare. “Uh…”

“That’s okay,” I said with a slight purr. “How ‘bout this, can you give us a quick tour? Maybe we’ll see what we are looking for.”

“I’m in the middle of an experiment,” he said tightly. “The only reason I’m down here is to get more coffee.”

“Then we won’t keep you,” I smiled.

“You can’t be here, Chat,” he said. 

“Can I stay if I let you take a picture?”

Sebastian seemed torn, but then nodded. “You can’t tell anyone I let you stay,” he said as I stood in for his photo.

“Then you’d better not post this on social media,” I advised.

“Good point,” he answered as he disappeared down the hallway. 

“That went well,” I said as I started to dump the shards into the trash can.

“Wait!” Marinette said. “Put those on the counter.”

I raised a masked eyebrow, but did as instructed. The mug was an old ceramic design, clearly hand thrown. Now that I looked at it, the craftmanship was exquisite; the clay had several different shades of grey, and as I held up a piece, I could see it sparkle slightly in the florescent light. “This is pretty,” I said.

“Look at this,” Marinette said, holding up a bigger piece. 

There was a scribed image of some kind on the side, almost stick-figured. It was striking, but I couldn’t place it. “Is this significant?” I asked.

“Yes!” Marinette said, excitedly. “This looks like an original Jacques Blin!”

“Who?” I asked. 

“He was a French artist, well known for his ceramics,” she said. “My father is a huge fan, and has a vase or two of the same style. It’s really rare now but was all the rage during the 1950s.”

I looked at the shards again. They certainly _seemed_ like a period piece. “I can’t believe the portal would take us to the top of Mauna Kea for a coffee mug,” I said skeptically.

“Says the cat who found a postcard at the Disney Studios,” she reminded me.

I caught her gaze and the certainty in it, and swallowed back a response. Instead, I raised my ring hand. “Cataclysm?” I said, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice.

The power rushed to my hand, and I carefully dusted it across all of the pieces we’d arrayed on the counter. To my amazement, we watched as the mug reformed into a perfect specimen, lit up with the white light and _poofed_ into the whirling portal with our now-favorite fireworks.

I held out my paw. “Pound it!” we both said in unison, laughing. 

“I’ll never question you again,” I added as our portal opened in front of the coffee maker.

“That would be wise,” Marinette smiled. There was something extra to her eyes. “What are we down to now, Chat?” she asked.

“Seven to go,” I said. “And something makes me think they’re going to get harder from here on out.”

“Dear Lord,” she said. “I’m _definitely_ going to need coffee.”

I laughed as I wrapped my arm around her waist, and we stepped through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purrhaps not exactly the coffee either of our duo were hoping for. Hopefully it will tide them over, but Chat has informed me that his manager will be lodging a protest with the Writer's Guild. Something about "cruel and inhumane treatment of felines..."
> 
> Believe it or not, Jacques Blin was a famous a mid-century designer based in Paris. I stumbled upon him while doing research for Keys and fell in love with some of the designs. Check him out on Google.
> 
> Since Chat made yet another obscure Star Trek movie reference, as a public service, here is the appropriate set of lines from _Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home_ (for context on the humor):
> 
> Spock: (standing next to a bus route map in downtown San Francisco) I'll use the coordinates Commander Uhura provided-
> 
> Kirk: (watches bus pull up with an ad for a whale exhibit at an aquarium) I have a hunch that we'll find what we're looking for at the Cetacean Institute. A pair of humpbacked whales named George and Gracie.
> 
> Spock: How do you know this?
> 
> Kirk: Simple logic.
> 
> So, where to now, you ask? Ah, good question... but for those of you wanting us to return to Paris... be careful what you wish for... -ep


	7. 0800 to 0900 (Paris Time)

The room that we walked into from the portal was dark, save for a shaft of brilliant early morning sunshine coming through a high window. I shielded my eyes against the sun, and stared at the design pattern in the glass: if I didn’t know better, I would have sworn it resembled the stylized butterfly that represented House of Gabriel.

Something made the hair on my feline neck stand, and I carefully placed Marinette behind me. Slowly, I rotated myself; the room was more or less circular, but other than the window, there were no visible exits. My ears semi-flattened, the only outward sign beside the intermittent shifting of my tail that belied my anxiety. Up to now, the portal had generally deposited us somewhere safe.

This felt anything but.

“Chat,” Marinette said softly. “What is that?”

I turned in the direction she had indicated. Bisected by the sunbeam was a small pedestal, atop which was a glass-and-porcelain piece of artwork. A memory of another pedestal topped by a porcelain kitty popped into my brain, and my ears completely flattened. This was too much of a coincidence.

“This is wrong,” I said, firmly ensuring Marinette was behind me.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Years ago, I had a run in with another piece of art,” I said. “It didn’t go well for me back then; it was one of the first akumas Ladybug and I fought.”

“Copycat?” she said.

I snapped my head around. “How on earth did you know that?”

Marinette was blushing slightly. “I think you mentioned it once before,” she said hastily. “That was one of the times Ladybug broke your heart.”

“Yeah,” I said, turning back toward the pedestal. “I had a lot to learn about love. But she crushed me pretty hard that day. It took a bit for me to recover.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, softly squeezing my arm. 

“It was a long time ago now.” 

I narrowed my masked eyes. If this was what I suspected it was, even getting close to it would be a problem. What I couldn’t fathom was why the space felt – and for that matter, _smelled_ – so familiar. Or why this particular trap would pop up at this point in the search for the Keys. I squinted a bit. There was an inscription on the base. “’Presented to Coco Channel…’”

My eyes widened and I pushed Marinette back to the wall, quickly.

“Chat – what?!”

I said something very bad under my breath. “That is a one-of-a-kind piece,” I breathed. “It’s the first design award Coco Channel ever won.” I paused. “And it typically sits on a shelf in my—uh, rather, I know that one Gabriel Agreste has it on display in his office.”

“How did it get here?” I knew without turning around her eyes had gone wide.

“That is the question of the hour,” I replied. “I agree that might be the Key,” I said. “But I also think it’s a trap.”

“This is a trap from Hawkmoth? We’re back in Paris?”

“Yes,” I said, pulling out my baton and popping it into GPS mode to confirm my suspicion. I frowned when I saw the _no signal_ message. “Despite that window up there, we seem to be in a shielded room. I can’t get a data signal.” I flipped to the phone function. “Two for two,” I amended. “No cell coverage either.”

I turned toward her partially, and handed the baton to her. “Take this and hide it in your purse,” I said. 

Her eyes were indeed wide. “This can’t be good,” she said as she turned it over in her hands.

“If that is what I think it is,” I said, nodding my head in the direction of the pedestal, “you’ll need to use that to free me. But I also suspect we are going to have a guest, too.” I looked at her pointedly. “You may only get a single shot at it, and you might have to make a split-second decision.”

I gripped her by the arms. “Whatever happens, if there is a way for you to escape, leave me and find Ladybug.” I looked to the window. “I don’t know how I know this, but I’m pretty sure we’re in Paris. Get as far away as you can, and use the baton to call her.”

“Chat, I won’t leave—”

“Yes, you will,” I said firmly. “Understood?”

She looked at me and then slowly nodded as she stuffed my baton into her purse. I was a little surprised at how much bigger it seemed to be on the inside.

I turned back. “Stay as far back as you can,” I said.

“Got it,” she replied.

Carefully, I stalked to the pedestal. As with the ceramic kitten from years earlier, the award for Channel seemed innocuous enough. But I knew better.

After circling it, I paused at what was clearly the front. A small card, folded in half, was perched in front of the award. For just a moment, I remembered the high emotion I’d been feeling back then; it hadn’t been one of my finer moments, for I’d caused the akuma with a few unwise words the wrong person. 

Compounding it had been Ladybug’s offhand dismissal of my feelings for her. I’d rebounded from it eventually, but I was pretty certain it had ultimately been the beginning of our relationship becoming purely professional -- as much as I had desperately wanted it to be otherwise. And if I were being honest, there was still a part of my heart that yearned for her to return my affections.

Taking a deep breath, I shoved the memories back into their holding bin and picked up the card. Flipping it open, I read the words, knowing they were the trigger.

“Chat’s in the bag,” I said.

The pedestal exploded in a massive cloud of white smoke, and an expected jangle of chains filled the room. After the smoke dissipated, I was manacled by the paw with snuggly fitting steel cuffs. It wasn’t quite the same as last time, though, as if someone had learned from our first encounter. This time around, the chains didn’t connect to each wrist in a single length; instead, two separate chains were individually anchored to different bolts that were at an angle from each other, eliminating what little movement I’d had before. I was unable to raise my hands above a partial crunch; neither could I bring my hands together.

Also new was the muzzle, something metallic, tightly fastened around my jaw with what felt like connecting bands over and around my head. Even if I’d been able to use my Cataclysm normally, there was no way I’d be able to utter the magic phrase. In fact, I wouldn’t be saying anything, anytime soon.

Marinette came into my field of vision. “This is different,” she muttered as she started to test the chains, jangling them to no effect. She turned and reached up to the muzzle; I felt her fingers as they tried to prize it away from my face. “It’s on there,” she said with resignation. “I can’t see any way to unfasten it; if I had a screwdriver, I might be able to loosen these bolts.” She turned back to the manacles. “They seem to be about the same size as the ones on your cuffs.” 

I nodded, and then tried to shoo her away from me with my eyes. She continued to fuss, though, bending down and examining the anchors. “If you press with your legs, can you loosen these at all?” she asked.

Rolling my eyes, I nonetheless complied. Pulling with my arms and pressing with my boots, I tried to use my super strength to make any sort dent in the bolts, and was only left with sore muscles and a thin sheen of sweat on my brow. I raised a masked eyebrow at Marinette.

“I know,” she said, reading my expression. “But it was worth a shot.”

Marinette stood and then circled the room deliberately, talking as she went. “Why this room? We have to assume this is a ploy to try and get the Keys from us.” She pressed her hands against a smooth metal panel, and frowned. “It doesn’t feel like he’d use an akuma for this,” she continued. “Or would he?”

I tried to shrug. It came off as a minor shoulder roll, jangling the chains. 

_No,_ I thought. _I think Hawkmoth will pursue this on his own; he’s had enough trouble getting our Miraculouses from us. He wouldn’t want to risk something as important as whatever is in that damn box to an inferior minion._

“No,” Marinette said aloud, channeling my thoughts. “This feels like something he wouldn’t delegate.”

I jangled the chains, getting a half-turned face and wry grin in response. “On the same wavelength, I see.”

I nodded, and then made an exaggerated look at the window, then her purse.

She paused. “No way. I’m not leaving you.”

I narrowed my masked eyes at her, trying to impart my rising ire at her insistence at staying. 

“Calm down, kitty,” she said. “I’ve got a plan, actually.”

That made my eyes pop open. I jangled the chains again.

Marinette stopped her examination of the room and strode back to me. “Trust me,” she said, looking deeply into my eyes. “I’ve got your back.”

There was a determination there that I knew was genuine. But it was also something I normally saw in another set of deep blue eyes. After a moment, I nodded.

She started back to the side of the room she’d been examining, but I managed to snag her with what little arm movement I had; my feline ears had picked up something mechanical, and I tried as best as I could to place myself between her and the sound. Marinette wasn’t having anything to do with it, and stepped directly beside me. I started to roll my eyes, but she saw it and put an elbow to my ribs.

At the center of the room, a portal that had been hidden in the floor cycled open, and Hawkmoth rose into the space on some sort of lift. That maniacal grin we’d only seen in person a handful of times over the years was plastered on his face.

“Chat Noir,” he greeted, then turned toward Marinette. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. An unexpected pleasure; I assumed I’d have the privilege of seeing Ladybug.”

Marinette stiffened slightly, and I tried not to raise an eyebrow. “I was in the wrong place at the right time, it seems,” she said, matching Hawkmoth’s cold tones. “Would you care to explain what you plan to do with us?”

Hawkmoth laughed, the embodiment of cruelty. Carefully, he stepped off the pad and circled the space, keeping a safe distance from the two of us, his cane tapping on the metallic floor as he walked. “I have no plans for you, young lady,” he said, then locked eyes with me. “Chat Noir, on the other hand, is going to be a great help.”

Unconsciously, I formed a fist on my ring hand. Hawkmoth noticed and laughed again. “Oh, Chat Noir, I won’t be taking your ring – at least, not yet. I need you and your ring in order to locate the final set of Keys. And to do that, you have to remain Chat Noir.”

My eyes narrowed. He seemed to have an understanding of how the puzzle was playing out. But how could he know?

Marinette was still tuned in to me. “I don’t understand,” she said, feigning confusion. “What does Chat’s ring have to do with this?”

Hawkmoth paused, and for a moment I thought he might have seen through her. “You don’t know?” he asked at length, genuine puzzlement on his face.

I jangled my chains in an attempt to shrug again.

Marinette augmented. “No,” she smiled, and then leaned in confidentially, pointing at me. “He’s a little lost without Ladybug calling the shots,” she said. 

Both Hawkmoth and I raised masked eyebrows. I glared at Marinette: we were going to have a long chat about that later.

“I suppose he is,” Hawkmoth said, looking back at me. “He’s kind of the brawn of the operation, isn’t he?”

_That’s just plain mean_, I thought.

But I recognized what Marinette was doing, and supported her point by making another pointless attempt to pull out the anchor bolts. 

Hawkmoth laughed again. “Typical.” He turned back to Marinette, having found an attentive audience. “Chat’s ring knows the locations for each of the Keys to Paris,” he said.

“Keys to Paris?” Marinette asked. “Keys to what, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Hawkmoth said in a moment of rare candor. “What I do know is, whatever they unlock, it’s powerful enough that the Guardians of the Miraculous have no interest in it being found.”

That was certainly true.

“How many Keys do you have?” Marinette asked innocently. 

“One,” he replied. “Although I’ve not actually obtained it per se. It’s down—I mean, it’s still in it’s original location. I created the fake version of it especially for the trap.”

I raised my masked eyebrows. That meant the Channel award was still on Father’s shelf at the mansion. I tried not to look at Marinette. If we managed to get out of this mess, we might still have time to get the Key before he did.

My eyes flicked to the window again. The tiny center section appeared to be open to the outside; I’d also noted where the lift had arrived, but didn’t see any way to trigger it – at least, no visible means. I had to assume the entire space was built around Miraculous magic and bent to Hawkmoth’s whim. But it did have to exist _somewhere_. 

“So why the muzzle?” Marinette asked. She picked up one of the chains, inadvertently yanking me down in the process. “I get the chains, of course, but his puns aren’t _that_ bad.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hawkmoth said, surprised. “If he can’t talk, he can’t use any of his secret superpowers.”

_Any?_ I tried not to look nonplussed and put Master Fu on the have-to-chat-about-this-later list.

“Ah,” she said as she came around to my other side, catching my eye as she did so. “Makes sense.”

I read her look as: _He doesn’t know your Cataclysm has been changed. What else does he not know?_

One of my feline ears tipped a bit and she smiled at my response. _Message received._

“So what do we do now?” Marinette asked.

“We wait,” Hawkmoth replied. “Now that the ring ‘found’ the Channel award, the portal should appear and take us to the next location.” He looked at me, eyes flicking to my blond mane. “Lather, rinse, repeat until we get the rest of them.”

“Uh,” Marinette started. “I see two problems.”

Hawkmoth started. “You do?”

“Well, you’ll need Chat once we get to the next stop,” she said. “You can’t keep him chained up like this.”

He smiled. “I have a plan for that,” he acknowledged, looking at me cruelly.

“And where exactly do you think the Keys we’ve collected are? It’s not like we have them in my purse or something.”

That made him pause. “I assumed you had them on you,” he said. “You don’t?”

I tried to smile at his confusion before realizing even that was not possible at the moment. I settled for glaring at him in a self-satisfied way. _Brawn, eh?_

“No,” Marinette said. “We didn’t take any of them. They are right where we found them.”

“What--! You _left them where you found them!_”

“Yeah,” she said. “Why would we move them?”

“But I saw you on St. Helena!” he practically yelled. “It went into some sort of portal!”

“Oh, that,” she said, waving her hand. “It’s some sort of disabling spell. I don’t quite know how it works, but it’s good for a few hours.” She looked at her fingernails. “Chat couldn’t really explain it to me—”

I glared at her again for good measure.

“—but apparently they hide in plain sight after the spell wears off.” She looked at her phone. “In fact, you can probably get that first one at the Statue of Liberty about now.” She looked up. “You have enough time to get it before we move on to the next Key, I think. But just barely.”

Hawkmoth stared at her, clearly torn between determining if she was deceiving him in any way and the real possibility that we’d been inept enough to leave the earlier Keys in place. I knew which way he was going to go long before he said anything, impressed that Marinette had played him as she had.

Without saying a word, Hawkmoth turned from us and tapped the jewel on the top of his cane. Quickly, he tossed it into the air, twirling it as he did so; it spun faster and faster, dropped down directly on top of him. But instead of bouncing off his head, it had created a version of our whirlpool vortex that washed over him – a moment later, and it was just the two of us again in the space.

I looked back at Marinette, masked eyes wide with appreciation. _Nicely done_, my eyes said.

“We don’t have much time,” she said as she yanked open her purse and pulled out my baton. “Tell me you have some sort of metal cutters in here. Or a laser. That would work, too.”

I shook my mane. No such luck.

_Luck, _I thought. Of all the times not to have Ladybug by my side. She’d have quickly whipped up a special Lucky Charm for this situation, although, now that I thought about it, she was under the same constraints and wouldn’t be able to use her Charm more than once.

_Wait a minute_.

_The ring brings me close to where the Key is supposed to be. It’s been innocuous items up to now; what if the award wasn’t the Key? That’s a fairly famous object and would definitely be missed._

_It’s in this room. But there’s nothing here, just the…_

I jangled the chains to get Marinette’s attention. “What is it, Chat?”

I used my eyes to point to the window.

“I’ve already told you, I’m not leaving.”

I shook my mane vigorously, and with what little movement I had, tried to use one paw to point to the ring on my other. Then I pointedly looked at the window again.

Marinette looked at me. “Dear Lord.”

I nodded. 

“Not the glass, though.” She peered up at the window. “The wrought iron holding the design?”

I nodded again, hard enough my bell actually sang out slightly.

A sly smile hit Marinette’s lips. “Hawkmoth’s not going to be happy,” she said sweetly. “But we still need to get you freed so you can get up there.” She paused. “Actually, that makes sense. If he’d really nabbed the next Key, the portal would have already appeared, right?”

I nodded.

“Hot Damn.”

My eyes widened. 

“Sorry,” she said, blushing. “It’s just nice to finally get one over on Hawkmoth. Too often he’s a step ahead of us.”

_What? Ahead of us?_

“Can I use the baton to pry these off you?” She asked.

I put out my paw for the baton. She plopped it into my palm.

On a number of occasions, Plagg had made on-the-fly upgrades to my baton based on the situation I found myself in. I hadn’t needed anything in a while, but one of the more recent changes was a hidden storage compartment that I had found quite handy. And as it turns out, I happened to have a clever little tool stashed in there – not that I’d anticipated being chained up again. I rolled the baton over in my palm to expose the glowing Chat logo, and used a claw from my other paw to point to a specific button sequence for her to press. 

Holding her tongue, she repeated my movements on the glowing pawprint. The baton beeped and my hidden storage compartment popped open. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a literal Swiss Army Knife. 

_Thank you, Plagg. I’ll get you the really expensive stuff when we return._

“Well, I guess if your baton couldn’t do that,” she laughed. 

Quickly, she pulled out the slatted screwdriver and went to work on the bolts that were on the manacles. She made short work of the first one, which popped off my wrist and clanged down on the floor in metallic heap. A few minutes later, the remaining manacle dropped, and I rubbed my wrists, then reached up and tried to pry off the muzzle. 

Marinette stopped me. “Give me a moment to loosen these,” she said, going to work on the bolts that connected everything. It took far more effort than I realized it would, and the careful sneaking of a claw or two beneath an edge before it finally popped off my face and clattered to the floor.

I had to work my jaw a little in order to stretch the muscles; that thing had been clamped on pretty tight. “Nice work, Princess,” I said. I grabbed her around the waist and triggered elevator mode on the baton.

“I can’t believe you have a storage compartment in that,” she said as we rose to the window. “And that you have a Swiss Army Knife.”

I laughed. “The compartment has been there for a while,” I replied. “The knife was a… recent addition.”

“You take this preparation thing seriously,” she smiled.

We arrived at our level. “I hope to Hell I’m right,” I said.

“Me, too.” She squeezed a hug despite her rather awkward embrace of me. “But you are,” she said.

I hoped I was. “Cataclysm!” I cried.

The power ran to my fingers and I brushed them along the axis of the wrought iron. Closer, the design was clearly the House of Gabriel butterfly, and I filed that away as something I didn’t really want to deal with at the moment.

I lowered us a little and we watched as the panes of glass shattered (outward, fortunately) and the wrought iron took on the white glow. Slowly, it pulled itself out of the window frame and did the magic fireworks dance into the now waiting green-black whirlpool portal. 

It _poofed_ out of existence and was gone in a flash.

I heard our transfer portal open below us, but something from the window had caught my attention. Instead of lowering ourselves, I rose slightly. The Eiffel Tower was off in the distance, lit by the early morning sunshine. But the angle I was seeing it from felt familiar. I’d had to have been on this rooftop before. It would be paramount to try and locate what we now knew was Hawkmoth’s lair, and this view might be the first step.

“Chat?” Marinette said. “Let’s go before he gets back.”

“Of course, Purrincess,” I said as we ziplined our way back to the main level. The portal was swirling in front of us.

“Are you sure you want to continue?” I asked. “We’re home, you would be safer if you stayed here.” I looked at the space we were in. “Well, not _here _exactly…”

“I keep telling you this, Chat. I’m not leaving you.” She moved over to me and kissed me, deeply.

“Well,” I said as we pulled apart, and held out my paw. “Ready, then?”

“Yes,” she said, taking it.

We took a step and vanished into the portal.


	8. 0900 to 0920 (Paris Time)

We stepped out of the whirlpool portal and directly into Father’s atelier. 

On instinct, I pushed Marinette behind me and again scanned the room, grateful she was unable to see the by turns shocked and frustrated expressions playing on my face. I was pretty sure we were here because Hawkmoth had been somewhat truthful – the Channel award was likely the next Key, and in his attempt to use it as a lure for his trap, he’d left it vulnerable. But while Hawkmoth was many things, I’d never know him not to consider all angles when dealing with us.

I couldn’t discount that this, too, could be some sort of trap.

“There it is,” Marinette said, spying the award on the shelves along the far wall. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “But we have to be careful. This mansion is more secure than most.”

Marinette gripped my arm. “We’re in the Agreste mansion?” she asked. “And how do you know about its security?”

“I’ve been here before, with Ladybug,” I said, truthfully. Father had triggered the master security panel in the presence of Chat Noir on at least two occasions, but I of course knew more about it since I had needed to evade it nightly for years. I was seriously looking forward to my dorm room at University. I’d talked Father into paying for a single, which would make my coming and going as Chat Noir a bit easier.

“Adrien might be here,” Marinette said in the same quiet tones I was using. “Is he in danger? If Hawkmoth returns--”

“He’s probably at a photo shoot or something,” I said. “If we hurry, we can be in and out before Hawkmoth gets here.” And, hopefully, before Father trundled in. Where was he, anyway? It was unusual for both he and Nathalie to be missing at this particular hour of the day.

Except… I thought I _did _know where Father happened to be, didn’t I? 

The view from Hawkmoth’s lair had been weighing on my mind, and having suddenly arrived in Father’s working study seemed to have my feline brain on overdrive. For as I stood there in the well, staring at the Channel award, I realized why that view had seemed so familiar. 

It was from the roof of the very mansion we were now standing in. I’d been up there many nights, and, it appeared, just a few meters from where my nemesis appeared to have been operating. For years.

_For four very long years._

I knew this changed how we handled Hawkmoth, but I wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it to Marinette; once more, as much as I appreciated having Marinette with me, I realized how badly I needed my partner. I decided to shelve it, temporarily, until we solved the Keys of Paris.

Marinette noticed my trailing gaze to the wall-sized painting of my still-missing mother. “Chat?” she asked tentatively. “What’s wrong?” She came around in front of me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” I murmured. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

We both took a few steps toward the shelf and paused directly below it. I turned to Marinette. “This feels a bit like an _Indiana Jones_ movie,” I said. 

“Is that good or bad?” she asked.

“Depends on what happens when I pick it up,” I replied. I started to reach up but paused when Marinette put a hand on my bicep.

“Are you sure this is the Key?” she asked. “I’m also not certain I understand how the wrought iron from the window was connected to Paris.”

Despite the ticking clock in the back of my head, I answered. “Old mansions, such as the one I—this Agreste Mansion, were often built with materials that were close to hand.” I waved my paw to indicate the space we were in. “I think this one was built around the mid-eighteen hundreds, and reused iron from cannons that were melted down after the French Revolution.” I looked back at Marinette. “I made a calculated guess that the room we were in was part of a building of the same era.”

She looked at me, hard. “Do you infer _anything_ from the fact that we were in that room, presumably of the same era as this mansion, and wound up here as our next stop?”

“And that Hawkmoth specifically called out the Agreste Mansion?” I turned back to the Channel award. “I do, but I am trying not to think about it.”

“Chat, I think it’s important,” she said reasonably. “Don’t you see? The two are connected to Hawkmoth.”

_I know,_ I thought, amazed again at how insightful Marinette was.

I looked over my shoulder. “I’m not willing to go there,” I replied. “So far, we have a tangential connection at best. Besides, we’ve seen Gabriel Agreste akumatized,” I added, the final hope I had that my internal reasoning was somehow flawed.

“And we’ve seen Hawkmoth akumatized, too,” Marinette said. “It means nothing.”

“I’m not so sure—” I paused, turning fully toward Marinette. “Wait, what did you say?”

“We’ve seen Hawkmoth---” she stopped, seeing my eyes widen.

_This isn’t happening. Not right _now_!_

But it was. “How do you know that, Princess?” I asked carefully.

“Uh,” Marinette faltered. “I… saw it? A few years ago – Hero’s Day, I think.”

I stepped closer to her, and put my paws on her shoulders. “You couldn’t have, Milady,” I said purposefully, all of the pieces now plunking down in place. “Unless you’d been up there on the Tower with me.”

“No, I’m sure I saw it,” she continued, seeing something in my eyes and continuing to flounder. “It must have been on the news or something…”

She continued on for a bit, but all I could see were those deep blue eyes as they locked with mine. My brain started ticking off what it had been cataloging for the past few hours.

_The portal came for Ladybug and Chat._

_Master Fu said Ladybug was safe and where she needed to be._

_Marinette was as cool under pressure as my partner._

_Marinette fought like my partner._

_She knew how my baton worked - intimately._

_She’d kidded about healing quickly, but the scrapes from Hawaii were already gone._

_She realized what was different between the Copycat trap and the one we’d just escaped, though she’d never seen the former._

_Marinette knew more about Hawkmoth than she should._

_Ladybug has been with me this whole time._

Marinette had stopped talking and was just looking at me. “Chat?”

I took a deep breath. “Ladybug.”

She blew out a breath and put a hand atop one of my paws. “Damn,” she said quietly, then looked up at me with that smile that always made me go mushy inside. “I guess this means I can call baloney on your ‘Adrien is at a photo shoot’ line then, too.”

Now it was my turn to look a little flustered. “I’m sure he is—” I started, eyes widening. 

“Knock it off, _Adrien_,” she said, emphasizing my name.

I blatantly confirmed it with a hand-to-the-neck. “Am I in trouble now?” I asked, slightly mewling.

“You managed to keep it secret for four and half years _and_ dated me as Chat without revealing yourself.” She leaned up and kissed me. “I think we’re beyond this being an issue for us now.”

My masked eyes widened more. “We were dating?” I said.

“You were at my house nearly every night for the last four years, Chat. If that’s not ‘going steady’ I’m turning in my dictionary.”

I gulped a bit. “I see your point,” and I did. And to be honest, I had sort of thought of her as my girlfriend; just one that I couldn’t see anywhere other than her balcony patio. And that had been plenty fine.

She stroked my arm affectionately. “Would it help to know that Ladybug has felt the same all this time?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I think I already knew that. Somehow.” I smiled. “Does this mean I can now take you out on the town as Adrien?”

“No,” she laughed. “But we’ll talk about that – later.”

I pouted, but it was hard to do with a goofy smile. “All right, then. Why don’t you transform and join me on this merry expedition formally now.”

Marinette looked around. “This might not be the best spot…”

“Okay,” I said. “I have just the place.”

I took her hand in my paw, and crept to the main door of the atelier. I knew Gorilla had retired after I graduated from high school, so other than the chef and maids, there was little chance someone would see us in the main foyer. But I cracked the door open to ensure the space was clear.

It wasn’t. Nathalie was standing in the doorway to the dining room, back to the atelier.

I closed the door softly. “Change in plan,” I whispered. “Nathalie is out there. We’d better get this over with first.”

“Agreed,” Marinette said and we both quickly moved across to the Channel award. 

I didn’t waste any time. “Cataclysm!” I cried, and reached for the award.

“Stop!” came a cool voice from the doorway.

Shocked by the force of the command, I turned, paw in mid-air, radiating the Cataclysm magic. Nathalie was standing at the open door. In slow motion, I watched as she did something on her tablet, and turned, too late, to try and complete my task.

Instead, the floor fell out from beneath us.

I hit the edge of the now yawning opening, clawing at it with my non-ring hand and managing to arrest my descent. Fortunately, Marinette had been right next to me and had snagged my tail on her way down. I grunted a bit at the sudden cinching around my waist as she slowly spun around in the open space below me. 

“Are you okay?” I asked over my shoulder, carefully trying to keep my Cataclysm from touching anything.

“Yes,” she said. “Can you pull us up?”

I didn’t want to tell her my bicep felt like it was tearing in two. “Maybe,” I said instead, and took a deep breath. I poured every ounce of super strength I had into the effort; if it had just been me, I could have pulled it off, but the harmonic resonance from Marinette swinging at the end of my tail kept offsetting my effort. “No good,” I said. “Can you reach the baton?”

“Yes,” she said, and I felt her pull her way up my tail (that was an odd experience) and slide the baton from my back. “Got it!”

Nathalie had made her way to the opening. “I don’t know what you think you are doing, Chat,” she said unemotionally. “But this is a private residence. I’ve notified the authorities and they will be here shortly.” She hit something on the tablet.

The trapdoor started to close from the opposite side from where I was clinging. 

“This will hold you until they arrive,” she said, and stepped away.

I had maybe seconds before I’d need to let go to avoid getting my paw crushed. “Hold it sideways and hang on!” I said to Marinette. “Center-left-left-center! Quick!”

There was a pause and then I heard the _schroom-schlussh_ noise my baton made when it was in elevator mode. Marinette shot past me, releasing her hold on my tail and jumping off as she cleared the edge. That allowed me to swing up and out of the hole myself. I landed next to her and grabbed the baton, shortening it a fraction of a second before the door snapped shut.

Nathalie had left the room, presumably to await the police. I glanced at my ring hand, and saw I had managed to keep Cataclysm active. I looked to Marinette. “Okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Hurry!”

I stood and started to reach for the award again. My fingertips were about to brush the side of the award when the room was lit in a brilliant white flash. I was momentarily blinded, and didn’t see whatever it was that came down, hard, on my extended ring hand. It was forceful enough that it threw my momentum off and I hit the wall with both hands. I knew immediately the Cataclysm had been wasted as I tried to push myself up and spin around to face my attacker.

When the stars cleared, Hawkmoth was standing there, grinning his maniacal grin, and holding the Channel award. He tapped it three times with the jewel atop his cane, and a purple-black fireworks show lit up the room; I watched, horrified, as the Key evaporated in front of me.

_He’s got one now. This changes things._

“It appears I got back just in time,” he gloated. “That was a clever gambit, Mademoiselle,” he said to Marinette. “Sadly, it didn’t take more than a few minutes for me to determine you’d been lying.”

“Were we?” she smiled. “You really can’t be sure, can you?”

“No,” he said. “But now that I have a Key, I can use it to confirm what you told me.”

“Really,” I said, using the paw not holding the baton to push Marinette behind me. “And how might you be able to do that?” I asked. It took an amazing amount of willpower not to add “Father” to the end of the sentence, but there was too much at stake for him to know my true identity.

There would be a time for that.

“I must keep my secrets, now mustn’t I?” he smiled wider, not knowing the irony of his statement. He pointed his staff at me, and from past experience, I knew it was capable of some nasty magic. I tensed, trying to ensure I was completely covering Marinette.

“Now, if you’d—”

“Not likely,” I cut him off and backed away from him. 

Marinette leaned into me. “Portal opened, directly behind us.”

Without saying a word, I leaned backwards and the two of us fell into the green-black whirlpool of energy, thoroughly depressed.


	9. 0920 to 1030 (Paris Time)

We tumbled out of the portal in front of the glass pyramid at the Louvre and rolled a few meters across the pavers. I managed to roll out and into my normal pounce-crouch, but Marinette had again landed flat on her face. I leapt to her side and helped her into a seated position.

“That went well,” I said morosely. If it was possible to be ecstatic, angry and depressed simultaneously, I was. In less than an hour, my world had been rocked: the woman I realized I was in love with was also the woman I thought I’d gotten over, my father was as super-villain and, oh right, we lost one of the Keys, possibly dooming the world forever.

I wasn’t entirely sure the day could get worse, but then again, when Hawkmoth was involved, there were always new lows. For an awful moment I was wishing I’d not found out the truth, but it passed as soon as the more rational part of my brain kicked in and pointed out that knowledge was power. I was just at a loss as to how it would be helpful to me other than reminding me how blind I had apparently been.

“It could have gone much worse,” Marinette said, pulling me back into the here-and-now. “Remember, he’s only got one, and needs all of them. Even if we have to repeat this whole lousy thirteen hours, that’s better than Hawkmoth gaining control of the box.”

“But we’ve lost a Key!” I said. “That’s a _huge_ problem. Not to mention my Father is Hawkmoth.”

“Well, it can’t be all bad,” she said as I helped her up. “If we’d blown it completely, I’d assume we would have started right back at the first Key.” Marinette used her hands to indicate the plaza we were in. “Clearly, we’re not back in Virginia.”

“True,” I said, still depressed, “but I have no way to know if the Keys have returned already.” I paused again. “And did I mention Father was Hawkmoth?”

“You did,” Marinette said as she placed a gentle hand on my arm and smiled at me. “We’ll get to that in a moment. But you also weren’t paying attention to Master Fu,” she said sweetly as she reached behind me and retrieved my baton. In a quick move, she flipped it open and scrolled, then turned the display to me. “He mentioned this little beauty back in Virginia.”

My eyes widened. I’d forgotten about the inventory manager; there, on my small screen, was a list of the Keys we’d found so far, including their current status. All but one were listed as _in storage_, with the last one listed as _lost_. “That makes me feel a _bit_ better,” I said. “But it didn’t have to rub it in on that last one.”

I scrolled further and found it had a timer counting down to the next time I could use my Cataclysm. 

_Thirty-six minutes. Lovely._

I snapped the baton closed but rubbed my chin with it. “So you don’t think we’re totally, completely screwed, Milady?” I asked, still feeling a bit like we had missed our flight.

"No," she said, putting a hand to my arm. "I don't. The fact we are here, presumably close to the next Key, means we are still in the game. My guess is, since we didn't 'miss' the Key - we literally nearly had it - the puzzle didn't reset completely. Remember," she said, reaching up and running her finger along the edge of my mask, "Hawkmoth needs _all _of the Keys, too. One is not enough."

I frowned, but nodded. "You're right, of course, but it irks me that we were that close."

"We'll get it, Chat," she said with an optimism I wasn't feeling. "Something tells me that just being here means there is a way for us to get the Key back from Hawkmoth." She turned and took in the Louvre. "Well, hello there old friend," she said to the museum. "I wondered when we would get here."

Marinette always had the ability to lighten my mood; it was one of the main reasons I’d started to drop in on her. I felt a little of the burden lift from my shoulders and found myself laughing. “I figured we’d be here sooner or later.” I smiled slightly as I rechecked the countdown timer on my baton. “And since we have at least thirty minutes before I can try to use my Cataclysm again, there is now, officially, time for coffee.”

“Can we drink while we search the Louvre?”

“I don’t care,” I said frankly. “Because _I_ will.”

She laughed. “They might cut us some slack as superheroes,” she said.

“One of us,” I reminded her.

“Right,” she said, eyes glittering merrily. “And which one of us thought to pack some Euros?” she asked, holding up her purse. “Let’s get that coffee and then I’ll transform.”

Unlike Burbank, the few Parisians out and about around the Louvre were well acquainted with Chat Noir, and after some furtive glances to ensure there wasn’t some sort of akuma bearing down on them, their attention on me shifted to discreetly taking photos of Chat Noir with an unknown woman. Who he had, accidentally, taken by the paw and was now walking hand-in-hand with toward the main entrance to the renowned museum.

Maybe not so accidentally.

We entered the museum and found the coffeeshop on the main level; I cooled my tail at one of the café tables as Marinette procured a coffee for me and some hideously sweet concoction that I could smell long before she brought it to our table. I tried not to wrinkle my masked nose as she sat down. “Thanks, Princess,” I said, gratefully accepting my cup of the nectar of life and taking a long sip on the hot beverage.

“I’ve been trying to decide how to tackle the museum,” I said, eyes still closed as I enjoyed the bliss of the caffeine entering my system. I was definitely more tired than I’d realized. “Walk me through what you think the pattern of the objects is and we’ll compare notes.” I smiled wanly. “Meanwhile, I will continue to ignore the Father-is-Hawkmoth elephant in the museum.”

She took a sip of her drink. “The only common theme I have is that just about every object has been pretty ordinary. Historically significant in some way, of course, but generally ordinary.” Marinette started to tick off the Keys. “We have an actual key, a flag, a postcard, a hat, wrought iron formerly from a canon, and an award.”

“Plus a mug,” I added. I took another sniff and this time couldn’t help the wrinkle. “What the Hell is that?”

“It’s called a S’more Cappuccino,” she said.

I furrowed my masked brow. “That is not even _remotely_ coffee. You might as well just dump sugar into your mouth.”

“Don’t judge, Chat,” she laughed. 

I flicked a glance at the clock over the barista, and then pushed back from the two-top. “If they are all normal objects, then, we are in the wrong place. The Louvre is filled with _extraordinary_ objects.”

“Extraordinary to us, maybe,” Marinette said as she hooked her free arm inside mine and we started across the massive area. “But in the case of some of the smaller pieces, it’s possible the original owner might have felt they were very, very ordinary.”

“There have to be thousands of items on exhibit here,” I said. “What would possibly qualify?”

Marinette looked at me, and randomly reached up and ran a finger lightly along one of my cat ears. It was an odd sensation, and a movement she’d only done a few times before – usually to get my attention, or… well, just thinking about some of those _other_ times made me blush.

“What?” I said, coughing slightly. 

“With your mask, and those ears, you remind me of an exhibit here currently.”

“I don’t recall any pawtraits of me, Milady.”

She bopped me on the back of the head. “Come on,” she said, and she hurried up the escalators, trailing me behind her.

I had to hustle to keep up with her, and narrowly avoided spilling what was left of my coffee multiple times. More than a few docents frowned at us as we careened around the galleries, but I gave them my megawatt Chat smile and shrugged at them. A few minutes later, I recognized where we were going: the Ancient Egypt exhibit, still here and still just as popular as the year Ladybug hid me in the sarcophagus from Riposte. 

She skidded to a halt in front of a pair of onyx cats, and pointed. “This.”

I bent slightly. She wasn’t wrong, the ears were almost the same shape as mine, and the eyes, even with the extra little gold whorls at the edge, had the same slanted look my mask gave me. And it didn’t hurt they were also clad in black, save for the gold accents that had been painted on them. I turned toward her and raised a masked eyebrow. “These are not from Paris,” I pointed out.

“No,” she said, then pointed a finger at the placard. “But the owner is.” She laughed.

I leaned over. “’From the private collection of Catherine Deneuve,’” I read. “’Originally owned by her maternal grandfather, who received it personally from Howard Carter, the noted archaeologist.’”

“Holy cannoli. _The_ Catherine Deneuve? I met her, once,” I said, standing back up and eyes going wistful. “She was still stunning.”

Marinette smacked me, but was smiling. “You models only focus on one thing,” she laughed.

“We do not,” I said, singed just a bit at her inference. “Well, maybe a little.” I snapped my eyes back. “But why these? They are the very definition of _not_ ordinary.”

“Keep reading.”

I scanned the text – the Louvre wasn’t known for being succinct – and found what she was referring to. This particular set of statues represented the Egyptian god, Bastet, and were generally found in many homes during the latter dynasties of the New Kingdom. In short, these two beauties were commodities.

Back then.

I turned back to Marinette. “All right,” I said, nodding and genuinely smiling for the first time in a bit. “This could be it. The irony that one of the Keys might be a cat is not lost on me.” I paused. “Well, cat-themed.” I turned back to the wider gallery and pulled out my baton as I did so; checking, it said I still had about a dozen minutes before I could use Cataclysm again.

“Remember when you stuffed me in there?” I asked, using a claw to point to the sarcophagus leaning on edge in the far end of the room.

“I do,” she said. “I had no idea at the time you didn’t like small spaces.”

“It wasn’t the size as much as being locked up,” I corrected. “Having grown up under the thumb of my father, any restriction on my movement gets me a bit nervous.”

She nodded. “I can totally understand that.”

I checked the baton again. _Still time_. “When did I mess up?” I asked.

Marinette frowned. “I don’t follow.”

“You’d figured out my alter-ego,” I said, quietly, aware that there were patrons milling around. “I thought I’d managed to avoid the minefield of your questions today rather successfully.”

“Ah,” she smiled. “You did pretty good until you gave me a little too much detail about your recent absence from Paris. Nino told Alya that Adrien was out of town at a photo shoot he’d not wanted to go on.” 

I rolled my masked green eyes. “Naturally, she told you.”

“Yep.” She looked at my masked eyes. “You left out the photo shoot angle both times you told me as Chat, of course. But how you explained it again to me when I pressed you earlier allowed me to connect the dots; you were truly unhappy, as Chat, to leave me behind unprotected.” She shrugged. “That plus your other answers, and your reaction to the Agreste mansion, naturally, kind of solidified the whole thing.”

“Naturally,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

“I made a few mistakes today too, so don’t feel so bad.” She pressed her hand to my face. “It was bound to happen, sooner or later.”

“Well,” I smiled, “not a bad run, then, four years.”

“No.” She sneaked an arm around my waist, ignoring the stares of the patrons as they walked by. “Not at all.”

I checked the baton: it was 1000 straight up. “I feel like we should do this as quickly as possible,” I said.

“Agreed.”

I turned back to the twin statues and realized we had a problem. “There are two of these,” I observed. “Which one?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “I… I don’t know.” She looked back and forth between the two identical statues. “It can’t be both, right?”

“Master Fu said ‘Key’ so I would say not.” I dropped to a crouch and started to examine each statue a bit more closely, using all of my feline senses. It took longer than I wanted, but I finally managed to detect a subtle scent difference between them. 

Wondering slightly what it looked like to the patrons that a human-sized black cat was literally sniffing each statue, I focused in on the scent notes that were coming up different between the two. The one on the right had notes that told me it was very, very old: mold, musty, and the earthiness of the dyes that had been used in the paints – paints based on plants that were not native to France.

The one on the left, however, smelled more like something you’d have bought in the gift shop. It had notes from the paint that screamed commercial grade, and I thought there was a hint of modern plaster. I couldn’t be sure, other than a gut instinct, but I stood and pointed to the one on the right. “This one.”

“That’s enough for me,” she said, and then took up a position behind me that might possibly shield my actions from any patrons passing through. “Coast is relatively clear,” she whispered.

“Cataclysm!” I said quietly.

The power flowed into my fingers and I dusted them across the small cat. For a long moment, nothing happened, and I thought we’d messed up again. But then it lit up with the white glow, and I started to breath a bit easier when the green-black fireworks appeared and it _poofed!_ into my virtual storage vault.

Much like the Statue of Liberty, though, alarm klaxons started to blare. Apparently, removing a priceless relic from the Louvre was frowned upon. I turned to say as much to Marinette only to see the security officers pounding down the hallway toward us. “Time to go?” I asked instead, seeing the whirlpool open beside us.

“Yes,” she laughed, and we leaned sideways and disappeared into the abyss.


	10. 1030 to 1200 (Paris Time)

We didn’t immediately pop out at our next destination. Unlike earlier transits through the portal, where we simply entered on one side and quite literally popped out on the other, our departure from the Louvre was different. Normally there was no quantifiable passage of time, but I could definitely feel that we were currently _nowhere_ as it were, and had been for a bit.

_Something is off_, I thought, unsure how I was even existing in this quasi state between, well, states.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I was seeing; it took a few moments for my brain to process the environment around me, and it began to resolve into some sort of whirling tunnel, with twisty streaks of green-black energy whisking around me. I blinked, and Marinette appeared next to me; she may have been there the entire time, of course, but I was only now registering her presence. 

She was still holding my paw, which I took to be a good sign.

We weren’t exactly floating, but we did appear to be moving in a forward-like direction. 

“Marinette?” I said aloud, somewhat surprised that I still had a voice and the ability to hear it. “Are you okay?”

“This is weird,” she replied. “Where are we?”

“In between is my best guess,” I said. “I’m starting to wonder if we used the correct portal.”

“It’s not like we had a ton of options,” she pointed out, somehow managing to twist herself into facing me. “If I were to guess, something is wrong at the destination.”

“Huh,” I said. “So it went into ‘safe mode,’ for lack of a better description.”

“Right,” she nodded. “What worries me is _why_ it happened.”

The answer was easy. “Hawkmoth,” I said. “He jumped ahead.”

“And somehow managed to block our exit?” Marinette looked thoughtful. “That would be one way to prevent us from obtaining any further Keys.”

“It also explains why he didn’t make an appearance at the Louvre.”

We slowly circled each other as we continued to move through the passageway to nowhere. “I’m not entirely sure what to recommend here, Chat,” she said. “Unless you see an ‘Emergency Exit’ sign…”

“I don’t,” I said, although I continued to try and use my feline senses to see if there were any non-obvious ways to depart our apparent purgatory. “You don’t suppose this would simply drop us off someplace else if we just asked it to, do you?”

She frowned. “If it were at our beck and call, maybe,” she said thoughtfully. “But up to this point, it’s been the other way around.”

“But if it’s gone into a version of safe mode, maybe there is a way,” I said. “Bear with me.”

I flipped around and somehow managed to propel myself toward the swirling wall surrounding us. Carefully, I dipped a claw into the energy stream, and watched as it cleaved a triangular opening in the wall that grew wider the further it moved from my claw – almost like a rock diverting water in a stream. I could see places in Paris whirling by us in the opening, though none were staying present for more than a few moments.

I turned back to Marinette. “Well, what do you know,” I smiled. “I bet if we time it right, we could push through and land somewhere out there.”

“But will we be close to the Key, I wonder,” Marinette mused. Her eyes turned to me. “Maybe,” she said. “The portal wants to land us close; we might be in the ballpark, so to speak, but not as close as we’ve been in the past.”

I smiled. “All we need to do then is find Hawkmoth,” I said. “He’s unintentionally given us a tip.”

“It’s not much of a plan,” she said.

“I can work with it.” I turned a bit. “Grab on,” I said. “I’m going to try and open a big enough hole for us to go through.”

I felt her encircle me from behind and snuggle close. Then, using both sets of claws, I peeled back a massive swath of swirling energy and essentially willed myself through the hole.

We tumbled out of the new portal… in midair over the Trocadero, falling fast. My tail was fluttering behind us as we dove for the ground. “Not quite what I’d hoped for,” I yelled to Marinette over the rushing wind. 

“You play the hand you’re dealt,” she yelled back. 

I reached behind me, snagged my baton and then scanned for options. We were nowhere close to anything I could embed it into, so that left a pogo-stick like option. It wasn’t going to be pretty. I rotated the two of us so we were falling feet first and helicoptered furiously to slow our descent; we did slow, but not enough. Fifty meters out, I flipped the baton to my front and super-extended it, feeling it embed in the dirt, deeply, causing us to rebound upward. Yanking it back out, I shortened it slightly and repeated again, this time coming to a gentle rest at the top of a Chat flagpole.

Gracefully, I elevatored us to the ground, grateful for small favors and a magic baton. “If we get a second try at escaping the portal,” I joked, “I’ll spend a few extra seconds observing the height, Princess.”

“That would be nice,” she said. “I’m not particularly fond of high-altitude jumps, even when in costume.”

I laughed at that, flashing on a time when we’d been trapped in a bubble, and I’d used Cataclysm to free us – but about five hundred meters higher than I should have. I was sure I’d used up a few of my nine lives since that particular episode. “I agree with you there.”

Stowing my baton, I looked around at the otherwise normal, pleasant morning taking place around us in the park. It was hard to believe we were on the trail of something that could reign down destruction on everything we knew and loved. 

“Well,” I asked. “Assuming our hypothesis is correct, we should still be within range of the next Key.”

“Right,” she agreed. She spied a coffee vendor and pushed me toward the cart, continuing: “We just need to think like Hawkmoth for a moment. Figure out how he figured out where we would be next.”

“Easy peezey.” I groaned. “If we could do that, we’d have defeated him years ago.”

“Today we know something about him that we didn’t know yesterday,” she gently reminded me. “How can we use that to our advantage?”

She was right, as usual, but my angst was getting the better of me. My tail was twisting in a tortuous way, reflecting the current state of affairs in my feline brain. I was certain my ears were similarly twitchy. “I’m sure that would be helpful,” I started, “but it’s a bit too close to home for me. I might need you to gently guide me in some way. Maybe I’ll think of something as we talk.”

We’d reached the vendor, who to his credit, only raised an eyebrow when one of the Heroes of Paris appeared at his cart. Marinette purchased two more coffees, and we began strolling again, sipping from our steaming cups as we went.

“Part of me thinks he’s cheating,” I said. “That he somehow has located a shortcut to each of the Keys that we don’t have. But that isn’t Father; he’ll squash a competitor, but it’s through swamping them with superior work, not undercutting them.”

“Indeed,” she said.

“Working hard…” I said, my eyes narrowing. “That was drilled into me early.” I looked at her. “You know, there is a bit of a pattern to the akuma attacks, isn’t there?”

Marinette looked at me, frowning at the sudden shift in subject. “What do you mean?”

“Well, nine times out of ten, it’s only one of a handful of places: our school, the park, the television station or—”

“Le Grand Hotel Paris,” Marinette said, snapping her fingers. “I’ve got it!”

I raised both masked eyebrows. “Would you care to share your epiphany?”

“I thought getting you to talk about your Father would trigger something – it did, but for me.” She pulled out her phone, muttering, “I’m going to need to charge this soon. Okay, here it is – I remembered this as you were talking.” She turned the screen so I could see it.

“The One-Hundredth Meeting of the International Cinematographer Association?” I looked at her. 

“Give me that,” Marinette said, snatching her phone back. “Look, here it is. ‘As the proud sponsor hotel for the event, the owner has put on exhibit the last remaining original Edison kinetoscope made in Paris in the late eighteen-nineties.’

“A… what?”

“It’s one of the very first motion picture projectors ever created. This is one of Thomas Edison’s designs and was built here in Paris.” She looked up at me. “The Mayor took it out of his private collection. It’s never been on public display before; that has to be it!”

I thought about it. We were just a few blocks from the hotel proper. It was as good a lead as any. “All right,” I said. “Let’s ---”

Several police vehicles roared around the corner to the plaza, sirens blaring, and pulled up in positions in front of the two of us. My feline ears heard additional support running toward us from the far end of the plaza. 

“I think the Louvre wants it’s exhibit back,” I said, watching as doors opened and weapons were trained on us. “They found us a bit faster than I expected.”

Marinette pointed to the omnipresent surveillance cameras. I groaned. “Why am I _always_ tripped up by a camera?” I mewled. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before things get ugly.”

Tossing our empty cups in the trash, I wrapped an arm around Marinette and leapt up into the familiar sky above the city and away from the police before they could completely set a perimeter. I tried to mask our route to the hotel, and managed to avoid both the news and police helicopters; we at length dropped down behind a massive HVAC unit on a rooftop opposite the hotel.

As I snuck my feline face around the unit, I realized the ostentatious hotel was quite reflective of the owner, and his daughter, for that matter. “Did Chloe wind up going to New York?” I asked, suddenly wondering, and ducking back as a news helicopter circled close by.

“I think so, yes.”

“Good for her,” I murmured.

“Good for us,” Marinette laughed.

I popped the baton open: it was a little past eleven-fifteen. I couldn’t believe how much non-time had passed in the portal, but the good news was I’d be able to use Cataclysm again. That was likely the only handy part of the wrong turn. “If you are right, Hawkmoth is either in there or close by and watching for us.” I turned back to her. “And with our other friends looking for us, I suspect a low-key entrance is in order.”

“Loading dock?”

I smiled my Chat smile. “Lower.”

“Than the dock?” she asked. 

Adjusting the display on my baton, I showed her the architectural plans to the hotel, zooming to the subterranean basement. “Our dear Mayor apparently paid for his own Metro entrance; it was supposed to be for the well-heeled guests but was never opened.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows, and then peeked over the rooftop. “I can see why, the Metro stop is literally across the street from the hotel.”

“There is a maintenance shaft a half block back that way,” I said, using a claw tip to point. “Ready?”

She nodded and wrapped herself around me, and not a moment too soon. The news helicopter had rounded the roof and found us, and was now hovering. I extended the baton and raced to the edge of the building, and then simply ran over the edge and down, swiftly changed direction and rounded the corner of the building before continuing down again; it was a trick I didn’t do often, but it caught the news crew off guard, as they had assumed I’d be leaping across to the next building. They roared away from us as we reached the sidewalk. Marinette dropped to my side and we ran down a side alley and found the nondescript doorway simply marked with the logo for the Metro.

Feeling like time was an issue, I shortened the baton and used it to smash the handle to the door, which then swung inward freely. It was a simple accessway, square with the descending staircase wrapping the walls and leaving the center open. I turned to Marinette. “This would be faster with your yo-yo,” I said.

She responded by wrapping herself around me. “No time, just go!”

Perplexed as to why she’d turned down multiple opportunities now to transform, I nonetheless gripped the edge of the railing and hurled us over the edge. As we dropped, I extended the baton and we landed gracefully multiple stories underground. Apparently not one of the shafts used regularly, it was dimly lit and the awful moldy stench of disuse assaulted my feline sense of smell.

A massive metal door with another one of those near-field readers blocked further movement. As with the Disney office, I knelt down and pointed the baton at the reader, then flipped through the menu to find Max’s key program. Once I triggered it, the baton started to sing to itself as it scanned through possible frequencies.

As we had a moment, I looked up at Marinette. “It still troubles me that Hawkmoth is able to divine the location of these Keys.”

“Did you notice how he used that jewel on top of his cane back at his lair?” she asked. 

I tilted my head in assent. “It opened the portal for him.”

“I know what you said earlier about your Father, but let’s say for the sake of argument Hawkmoth came into possession of an enchanted object that would help him locate the Keys.” She looked thoughtful. “I doubt he’d be willing to pass up such an opportunity.” Looking at me closely, she added, very carefully, “And as Hawkmoth, his moral compass is a little bit askew.”

My ears tilted a bit. “Father would never—”

“Chat, he’s Hawkmoth. He very well _could_ do things you’d never imagine. And we know he’s cast spells from the Grimoire when he thought they would give him an advantage. Besides,” she said, gently putting that hand of hers to my masked face. “By your own admission, you don’t really know your Father.”

Why was I having such a hard time with this? The evidence was plain, and as much as I’d walled off Adrien from Chat, it was possible Father had initially done the same with Hawkmoth. I knew how hard it was to keep the two parts of my persona from blending, and I was on the _right_ side of things. Faced with the power he had as Hawkmoth, I had to admit it wasn’t implausible that it had corrupted whatever purpose he’d initially had for misusing the Moth Miraculous. 

I didn’t have time to muse further as the baton chirped happily and the LED above the panel shifted to green; the door clicked and opened slightly. I stood, but kept the baton out; Marinette joined me and we slid through the door into a larger, darkened space. “I can use the flashlight function,” I offered.

“No,” Marinette said quietly. “It might attract attention. Keep me close and use your night vision.”

I made sure I had her hand in my paw and started to cross what appeared to be a petite station for the Metro; there were platforms on either side of depressed channel where the track might have gone but was not present. The style of the area (in my green-yellow night vision) very much matched the hotel but was musty with disuse. 

Recalling the plan from the baton’s image, I hurried across the tile toward a wall of elevators; next to them was an inactive escalator that rose beyond the chandeliered ceiling. “I think the elevators actually connect to the main lobby, but it would be safer to take the stairs.” I flipped open the baton. “Meowch, it’s 1143,” I said, hurriedly snapping it closed. “We’ve got to move.”

I opted not to remind her – again – that the yo-yo could get us to the top faster than my baton, and instead wrapped my paws around her and leapt twenty steps at a time up the escalator. It took a minute but we arrived at a mini lobby that felt like it was at ground level, still shrouded in darkness save for light filtering between gaps in the three sets of double doors along one wall. I let her go long enough to examine the doors and press a feline ear to them; the noise on the other side indicated we were on the convention center side of the lobby, meaning we might be able to sneak out without being observed.

“Did that article note where the display was?”

“No,” she said. “But knowing the Mayor, it would have to be prominent.”

I opened the baton again. 1152. “If you were going to serve lunch at a conference, it would be buffet style, right?” I asked thoughtfully.

“That would move more people through faster than a plated session, yes.”

“Then I think I know where our kinetoscope will be,” I smiled. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

I had to push harder than I expected to crack one of the doors open; they’d swollen with disuse. I was correct, we were at the far end of the convention center of the hotel, and Ladybug Luck was favoring us. Just in front of us were the giant tables set with food for the luncheon; we were maybe fifteen meters from the main ballroom, but save for the servers, the conventioneers had yet to appear. Scanning the tables, I found exactly what I expected.

Sitting atop the circular table with desserts was the kinetoscope, lit by several mini floodlights. It was an excruciatingly bad use of a historical artifact, meaning it was totally appropriate in Mayor Bourgeois’ book. I nodded to Marinette, and we pushed the door wider. 

Keeping us below the line of the tables that were in front of the disused Metro entrance, we skulked around until we were just across the aisle from the divine smells of the dessert buffet. Amazingly, we’d not drawn the notice of the staff, who were milling about at the opposite end, presumably preparing for the lunch rush when the conference broke. I turned my masked green eyes to the table. A quick leap and the job would be done.

I coiled up. “Cataclysm!” I said, somewhat quietly; once I saw the power popping off my ring hand, I leapt up and toward table.

And smacked, face first, into some sort of invisible force field, and slid unceremoniously to the ground.

At the last moment, I managed to curl my ring hand in and prevent it from discharging against the floor; I rolled away from the dessert buffet and back toward where Marinette was hiding. I’d smacked the invisible field rather hard – hard enough that two of the staff members had turned and started in our direction to investigate. 

“Ow,” was all I said as we crouched behind the table.

“Hawkmoth,” Marinette said. “It has to be – and I’ll bet something similar is what prevented the portal from working properly. He has to be close – he must be attempting to capture you again.”

Careful to keep my hand away from everything, and wondering exactly how long Cataclysm would last, I frowned at her. “Any thoughts on how we breach the field? I’ve got maybe ten minutes before I lose Cataclysm for this hour.”

“I do,” she said, smiling. “It’s partly why I’ve not transformed,” she whispered. The staff members circled the dessert buffet and had decided nothing was amiss. As they started back to the ballroom side, Marinette said: “Wait here.”

“Princess—” I hissed, but she was off and crossed to the dessert buffet. To my surprise, she was able to lean in and touch the kinetoscope with no problem. I raised a masked eyebrow as she quickly scooted back to me.

“It’s keyed to a Miraculous holder,” she said proudly. “Since I’m not transformed—”

“—it won’t stop you.” I nodded. “But you don’t have this,” I said, raising my still-popping Cataclysm hand.

“Give me your baton,” she commanded. 

I reached around with my free hand and slid it out, and tossed it to her in a smooth move. Without asking how, she extended it into staff mode and scooted back toward the dessert buffet. Having a sense of what she was planning, I took up a position and crouched just outside where I judged the forcefield to have been, arms ready.

“Batter… up!” she cried, and swung my baton into the historical artifact. She’d put enough effort into it that it tumbled off the table and into my arms unscathed, and, apparently, beyond the effects of the force field. 

I quickly set it on the ground – gently – and ran my Cataclysm-charged fingers over it, holding my breath.

By the time the buffet staff had turned to see what the commotion had been, the green-black fireworks had enveloped the brilliantly-white-lit item, and the priceless object had _poofed!_ into my secure storage space.

“Nicely done, Milady,” I said as we started to back away from the approaching staff. 

“Hawkmoth won’t make the same mistake twice,” she said as we turned and started to look for our exit portal. It swirled into being a few meters away from us and we started to run toward it.

“I agree,” I said, ignoring the shouts from behind us. “But I hope we make it to the next Key before he does.”

I lost her response as we dove into the portal, headfirst.


	11. 1200 to 1300 (Paris Time)

The overwhelming sense of immense space was my first impression, followed closely by the observation that the obsidian flooring I was standing upon absorbed what little light appeared to be shining down on me. There was no horizon, only darkness beyond the ring of illumination I appeared to be in the exact center of. It felt uncomfortably like Hawkmoth’s lair, so I slightly crouched with my baton in one hand, expecting the worst, especially since there was no trace of Marinette.

“Princess?” I called out. My voice echoed and reverberated across the emptiness. “Are you here?”

I tried several more times but failed to get any response. I wasn’t sure if I could count on her being safe; with no evidence either way, I crouched a bit lower and found myself lowly growling. Slowly, I rotated around, extending my feline senses as much as I could into the dark space. There was no trace of my partner, making my blood pressure inch ever higher. 

“_Marinette_!” I yelled as loud as I could, and was rewarded once again with my voice reverberating endlessly through the space. I was about to yell again when a stone-like grinding noise began. I dropped into my protection stance, twirling the baton, and watched as twelve obsidian pillars rose from the floor in unison around me; they halted about a meter and a half from the floor.

It was an answer, I suppose. Just not quite the one I’d hoped for.

Nine of the pillars exploded with a mini-fireworks show in the space above their flat top. Once the light faded, the Keys we had collected were revealed, slowly turning as if on an unseen mechanism. It wasn’t lost on me that three were empty. 

I stepped close to the Bastille Key, and saw a tiny plaque was embedded in the face of the pillar, just below the rotating object. My claw traced the description of the date, time, and location we’d collected the object – almost the exact line of data I’d seen on the baton’s display. 

_Am I in the portal, or the special vault storing the Keys?_ I wondered. _They use the same magic, maybe I’ve crossed over somehow. But why would I be _here_ now? So far, the portal has helpfully placed us close to each Key save for Hawkmoth’s last little surprise._

I looked around the pillars, frowning at the first empty one that would have been the Channel award. But then my masked eyebrow shot upward: the little plaque noted _exactly_ where the award had been, even though I didn’t currently possess it. 

_The portal works in conjunction with my Miraculous, right? _I thought. _And one of them knows the path… wait, Master Fu said if I de-transformed, I’d _lose_ the path. So my ring must actually already know where each of these Keys are. That must mean my ring is generating the portals in the first place – that explains the colors. Am I inside my ring?! Is that even possible?_

I looked at my ring hand and had a meta-moment as I saw the green pawprint illuminated on my finger. It was hard to comprehend being in it while wearing it, kind of like contemplating your reflection in an endlessly repeating series of mirrors. 

_And if it knows, maybe the portal is trying to prevent Hawkmoth from thwarting us again._

Quickly, I spun to the final two empty pillars. The first’s plaque said, simply:

_Bifocals, B. Franklin. Grand Palais._

“B. Franklin,” I murmured to no one in particular. The name felt familiar, though I couldn’t immediately see how it connected to Paris or a set of glasses. At least I _did_ know where the Grand Palais was, so that was something. There was no time on the plaque, though, so I wondered if that was the next Key or the last one.

I slid over to the final plaque and bent down to read the inscription. It said:

_Pencil, G. E. Tower._

“Who is G. E. Tower?” I said aloud. That was also all I managed to get out before the world around me dissolved back into swirls of green-black energy.

The portal re-opened at a severe angle over the clear rooftop of the Grand Palais. We rolled out together, and in short order were tumbling down the side of the dome. I managed to twist slightly and curl my feline form around Marinette, using my body to protect her from the irregular surface we were bouncing over. Each rotation brought us closer to the edge and a delightful plunge to street level.

My baton was still in a paw; whether from our last stop or my waypoint in the portal, I wasn’t entirely certain. I curled myself tighter around Marinette, tried to take a deep breath, and counted down to the edge of the roofline. Our momentum threw us upward at an angle, and I used an extra rotation to orient us in order to extend the baton. It _shushed_ itself toward the street and hit home, allowing me to arc gently out of the sky and into the park just outside the Palais.

Two steps after landing, I spun Marinette out as if we’d been ballroom dancing and shrunk the baton. “That, Princess, is what I call a Grand Entrance.”

“Nicely done, Chat,” she said. “We’ve exited the portal in some strange places, but this has to be the oddest.” She scanned the skyline. “Do you suppose the portal sustained some sort of permanent damage from whatever Hawkmoth did to try and pen us up?”

My masked eyes crinkled with my smile. “That’s the sort of question I would normally ask you, Milady. But yes, I do think we’re experiencing aftereffects of whatever he did. We have to assume it might not have put us down where it should have, too.”

Marinette laughed. “Like atop the Grand Palais?”

“Exactly.” I slid the baton in place at the small of my back. “But it seems to have wanted to give us a head start, too. In that brief moment we didn’t exist, I saw the Keys we’d collected, plus the next two we need to get.”

“Really?” Marinette’s eyes widened.

“I wasn’t sure which of the two was next, but since we’re here at the Palais, I think we are looking for a pair of bifocals from a B. Franklin.” It was the start of the lunch hour, so the manicured spaces around the Palais were full of people enjoying the weather with their meal. I was a little obvious in my feline ears and mask – not to mention skintight costume – so we nonchalantly started walking through the crowd while I scouted for an unobtrusive entrance into the Palais. “Let’s get clear of these people and then we’ll head for—”

“The Bakery,” Marinette said firmly.

I blinked. “That’s clear on the other side of the city,” I replied. “Why?”

Marinette looked uncomfortable as she considered her answer. “Uh…”

_Why would she want to go to the Bakery right now?_ I thought. _It’s not like she left something—_

But maybe she had, I suddenly realized. “Ah,” I said, nodding slowly. “That explains a lot.”

“Sorry?” she said, nonplussed.

I leaned down a bit so only she could hear me. “You don’t have your kwami, do you?” I asked, seeing the answer immediately in the blush that appeared on her cheeks. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Marinette swallowed. “I’ve only been separated from Tikki a few times, Chat, and each time it’s happened, I’m completely terrified. This was multiples worse, given that we were nowhere close to Paris initially.” She looked at me. “At first, it was easy to hide the fact since you didn’t know I was Ladybug; after the mansion, though, it became a bit tricky. And you are right – it would have been handy to have been transformed.” Marinette looked at her feet. “I’m sorry, Chat. I should have said something sooner.”

I popped open the phone on my baton: 1213. “Then there is no time to waste reuniting you with your kwami,” I said, grabbing her around the waist without waiting for her permission. I continued the conversation as I vaulted from the crowd into the air and ran up the side of the first building I came to. “You should have told me as soon as we realized we were back in Paris, Marinette. Certainly once I’d figured out your identity.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Look, Chat, I’m—"

“I’m not angry, Milady,” I said as I leapt across an alleyway and ran as fast as I could across another building. “It’s been a long day, full of revelations neither of us have fully adjusted to.” I smiled a bit as we leapt to the final set of buildings that wrapped around to the Bakery. “I think I can let this slide.”

“Chat,” she said quietly, “you really are a most amazing man. How did I ever not see it?”

I laughed as I made the final leap and landed on the tiles of her rooftop patio. “My charisma was blinding you to the obvious?” I offered.

“Maybe,” she said as she unwound herself from me. “Wait here. I’m going to have to bring Tikki up to speed and she’s not likely to be happy with me.” Marinette paused. “Or us, for that matter.”

I looked at the baton again. 1223. “Hurry, Princess.”

She scurried through the skylight and was gone for a few precious minutes. I started pacing the balcony, a space I’d spent quite a bit of time in over the past few years. It occurred to me how much we had shared with each other during those late evenings, and yet neither of us had connected the dots. What I’d not considered up to then was the awkward position I had put Marinette into; I’d see her as Ladybug, and in the early days, would make every attempt to win over her heart. Then I’d pour out my soul to Marinette a few hours later, never realizing they were one and the same.

Of course, as I’d slowly shifted my attentions to Marinette, I’d let go of my pursuit of Ladybug and instead spent increasing amounts of time on this very rooftop with someone who’d become more than just a friend to me. It was weird knowing I’d been wooing her all along. Part of me felt like I should be seriously pissed off with Marinette, but when I looked deeper, I knew I couldn’t be. She’d acted as she thought best in order to protect both of us. The pursuit of the Keys had been the proverbial x-factor and had brought it all out into the open, and I was pretty sure we were both comfortable with where things now stood.

More than comfortable.

My feline ears heard Marinette coming through the skylight. I pivoted and instead saw Ladybug standing there, grinning sheepishly. “It’s an understatement to say Tikki is unhappy,” she said. “So I thought it best to transform and deal with the music later.”

I drew her into me and a hug. “I suspect I will be having my own long conversation with Plagg. What does Tikki eat?” I asked. “Plagg is into very stinky, very smelly cheese. Maybe we can ply them with their favorite foods in a thinly veiled ploy to gain their acceptance.”

Ladybug laughed, and I mentally noted I had automatically shifted the persona I was working with. “Tikki is all about sweets,” she said, “so cheese is definitely out.”

I cracked open the baton. 1231. “I’ll keep that in mind, Milady.” I paused. “Good to have you back.”

She touched my arm. “I never left, exactly,” she said.

“True. Let’s get back to the Palais, shall we? Maybe on the way you can decipher who this Franklin guy is.”

“That’s easy,” she said as I leapt into the air with my helicopter move, and she followed with her yo-yo equivalent. “It’s Benjamin Franklin, one of the Americans who worked on the Declaration of Independence and was the first American Ambassador to France.” 

We dropped onto a rooftop and ran side-by-side. “He’s also the inventor, essentially, of the bifocal,” she continued.

“Oh,” I said as we vaulted over an alleyway together and continued to run across the rooftops. “You really did pay attention in World History, didn’t you?”

“Actually, that was something I picked up at the optometrist,” Ladybug laughed. “I don’t know why a pair of his glasses are at the Palais, though. Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

“Yeah,” I said as we vaulted off the last rooftop with easy access to the Palais. I pole-vaulted my way across the space and landed on the glass dome, perching carefully to prevent a repeat of our earlier slide. Ladybug dropped next to me. “If I had to guess, I’d assume there’s a special exhibit here somewhere.”

I tried to peer through the glass roof. Even with my enhanced feline vision, other than seeing a mass of humanity milling about inside, there were few indicators of anything extraordinary going on inside. I turned to say as much and found Ladybug working her bug phone. “Yeah, there’s a tiny retrospective of United States Ambassadors in the far wing. According to their website, they have a small token from every ambassador.”

Narrowing my masked eyes, I flattened out my ears a bit as I said: “So what you’re telling me is we now need to steal another public exhibit? In broad daylight?” I frowned. “This will do wonders for my image.”

“You’re not alone now,” she reminded me. “C’mon, we can drop through the roof access over there.”

She danced her way across the glass with a particular grace, second only to my own. I scampered behind her, cat-like, and pulled up when she stopped at a roof access panel. Deftly she pulled it open and without a second thought, tumbled into it. I hated when she did that, and immediately plunged after her.

We dropped side-by-side into a fairly petite exhibition hall ringed with lit glass display cases. From my pounce-crouch, I could tell that the objects on display ranged from the ordinary (there was a mug to my left) to the extraordinary (some sort of hand-carved roll top desk across from me). “Are these in chronological order?” I asked as I skulked close to the desk. 

“No,” she said, and I could hear the frown in her voice.

“You start there, then,” I said, “and I’ll start here. Hopefully we’ll find it before we meet.”

I ignored the small crowd of Parisians we’d split when we’d dropped into the space. They were murmuring to each other as we started to scan the display cases, and I made the mental calculation that some of Paris’s Finest would soon be on the scene. “We need to hurry, Milady,” I said.

“Nothing here.” She moved to the next cabinet.

“Ditto,” I said and slid sideways. My feline hearing picked up sirens in the distance.

“Here!” Ladybug suddenly cried. I immediately vaulted over the perplexed crowd and landed in a three-point crouch next to her, baton already in a paw. I followed her gloved finder and saw a small set of moon-shaped glasses sitting next to a placard.

Unfortunately, they were behind an inch of glass. I sighed. With my normal Cataclysm, I would have been able to fry the lock and retrieve the object without much damage to the case. Not today, though. “Stand back,” I said, more to the crowd than Ladybug, as I extended the baton into bat mode.

“Wait!” Ladybug suddenly said. “Try a claw instead.”

I raised a masked eyebrow. “All right,” I said, handing her my baton. Carefully, I used both paws to scribe out a rough square in the glass in front of the pair of glasses, working as quickly as I dared. The sirens were louder – we only had a few minutes before we’d have guests. One pass, then two; on the third, I felt the glass give slightly, enough that I poked a claw into the center and cleanly pulled my square out.

I heard the pounding of boots heading in our direction as I put the square carefully down on the tile. “Cataclysm!” I cried as I turned back to the case, and immediately pushed my paw in and gently touched the wire rims of the antique pair of glasses.

They lit up with the brilliant white light and floated upward slightly before _poofing!_ into my storage area in a burst of green-black fireworks. The portal seemed to know we were in need of a quick exit, however, and opened directly below us much as it had on Marinette’s balcony all those hours ago. 

As I fell through the floor, the last thing I saw was Officer Roger’s perplexed expression as he watched us disappear into the ether.


	12. 1300 to 1400 (Paris Tim)

I started to suspect the portal was getting as tired as we were when it again opened up a few meters above the ground and unceremoniously dumped us out along a Seine riverbank walkway. I dropped out onto all fours a little hard; Ladybug managed to land on her feet in a partial crouch. I was a little jealous as I shook out the stingers in my paws. “That was a bit close,” I said as I stood up.

“No kidding,” Ladybug agreed, taking my hand and standing. “So what? That leaves us with one Key?”

“Two, if you count the one Hawkmoth already has.”

“And two hours left?”

“Right – 1500 is our deadline.”

“And you have two more Cataclysms left?”

“That sounds right.”

Ladybug looked at the river, mulling over something. “Hawkmoth is going to be getting desperate. He has two options left – keep the one Key he has and force a reset of the puzzle, or go all in and attempt to retrieve the Keys we have.”

“But we have almost the same problem,” I pointed out. “We just happen to have more Keys in our pocket.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, not really listening to me.

I smiled. This was the Ladybug I knew and loved, cooking up some obscenely complicated plan that, invariably, would wind up working. I knew from long experience it would be best to let her simmer for a bit, so I leapt up to the arm on a park bench and watched her with my best expectant Chat expression.

She turned to me after a few minutes of pacing. “You remember when we tried to help Principle Damocles?”

I shuddered. Being locked in a storage container with a rising tide of whipped cream was something I was never likely to forget. “Oh yeah,” I groaned. “That didn’t work out very well for us.”

“Well, not that part, kitty,” she said. “The part where we tried to trick him into thinking he was saving us from a super villain.”

That brought a smile to my face. Alya had created a costume out of cardboard and had “captured” Ladybug and me. The idea had been that The Owl (Principle Damocles’ heroic alter ego) would have a chance to “save” us and maybe, finally, let the two us get back to protecting Paris and not him. Unfortunately, it had misfired badly, and Hawkmoth had capitalized on it, nearly getting us to hand over our Miraculous.

“Did you want to peek?” I asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Peek? When we’d de-transformed to hand over our Miraculous that day. Did you want to peek?”

“No, Chat,” she said shortly. “I didn’t.”

“Hey, now,” I said, holding up my paws defensively. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.” I paused. “So you’re thinking of something along the same lines then? You want to convince our mortal enemy that we are vulnerable?”

“Something like that,” she nodded. 

I waited, but when no further details were presented, I cleared my throat. “And…”

“If I tell you, I’m not sure you’re going to like it,” she said.

“Well, when you put it that way.” I felt a frown crease my masked visage. 

She sighed. “It’s risky, but I am going to have to dangle you like a trinket to Hawkmoth.” Ladybug paused for a moment, looking at me thoughtfully. “Well, not you as _Chat_.”

“But I can’t drop my transformation!” I protested. “We’ll lose the path to the next one, not to mention all of the Keys we’ve collected so far.”

“I’m aware of that, kitty,” she replied. “So I’m gonna call in our backup.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t like the plan so far. At all.”

“Trust me,” she said, as her eyes travelled over my shoulder and landed on something behind me. “What did you say the last plaque said?”

“Uh… ‘Pencil, G.E. Tower.’”

She grinned. “Purrfect,” she said.

“Now I am _really_ scared,” I replied, wondering how I had lost control over, well, everything.

But as Ladybug explained her plan in detail, I had to admit it had a real shot at working. And to be honest, I’d have followed Ladybug anywhere anyway.

So that was how I found myself pressed up against one of the chimneys of the Agreste Mansion a short while later, cooling my paws. I whispered into my earwig: “We must be running out of time this hour and we still need to get a Key!”

“It’s 1323, Chat. Relax,” I heard in my ear.

“Easy for you say,” I muttered. “You’re sitting back there, all nice and comfy…”

“Not exactly,” she laughed. “Rena’s about in position; hold please.”

That was my cue. I crawled down the tile roof and over the side of the mansion, flipping through the open window to my bedroom. It was pretty much as I’d left it before heading to Nice for the model gig; I’d been packing away most of my childhood in preparation for my move to the dorm that fall. Anything not needed for my college life was going into the basement, likely never to been seen again. Boxes were everywhere I looked; my eyes wandered to the loft, where my music and books had already been emptied. 

I found myself slightly distracted as I moved over to the door. Packing hadn’t been my idea, as Father had insisted that I was moving into a new phase in my life and putting aside everything I’d grown up with had been his way of forcing the point. Knowing now he was Hawkmoth made the sentiment even more awkward; I wondered openly if he’d had plans on drawing me into that part of the family business as well, for he’d been nonstop trying to get me to bail on college in order to devote myself to House of Gabriel.

Pressing a feline ear to my door, I tamped down again my anger at what Father had become. The last ten – eleven? I was losing track – hours on this insane treasure hunt with him battling against us had changed my perspective on him entirely. Once we got past the challenge of the Keys, I knew there would need to be a reckoning.

I just didn’t have to look forward to it.

Trying not to pull out my baton to check the time, I instead waited patiently, ear pressed to the door. Ladybug came back on the earwig. “We’re in progress,” she said. “Let me know when you have movement.”

“Got it.”

It was also grating on me that I was far from the actual action; having been in the driver’s seat for most of this trip, I was feeling a bit sidelined, although the rational part of my feline brain was well aware I was the only one of our small team capable of performing the task ahead. And Ladybug had both Rena and Carapace with her, so I needn’t be worried about her safety. But as Chat, I couldn’t help how ingrained it was that I be there to protect her; it weighed on me more now that I knew she was also Marinette.

That warm fuzziness I felt when I thought about Marinette had gotten stronger over these last few hours, and despite the seriousness of the situation, I knew a Cheshire cat grin had appeared on my face. I finally understood what the term “soulmate” meant.

“Whoa,” I heard in my ear. “That is a bit more realistic that I expected.”

I frowned. “What exactly did she decide on?”

“You don’t want to know,” Ladybug laughed in my ear. “Suffice it to say, doing a photoshoot in the next day or so would be a challenge. The angle on that arm…”

“I wish you’d not said that,” I grimaced.

“Fortunately, there was a news van handy,” she added. “They are catching the ‘ambulance’ now, live. One moment – I need to be the witness.”

That caught my attention. “You de-transformed?”

“Yes,” she said. “Ladybug can’t be here right now, right?”

“Uh—” My response was cut off as she caught up to the reporter.

“I saw it all,” she was saying to someone. “That car came out of nowhere and nailed him.”

“Did you see who it was?” I heard faintly from the reporter.

“I’m pretty sure it was that famous model, Adrien Agreste,” she said. “It didn’t look good.”

My ear picked up commotion from the atelier. I couldn’t be sure, though. “Lay on thicker,” I said,

“He went up and over the hood, yeah,” Marinette continued, “but the ambulance got here fast. He has to be on his way to the emergency room now.” She paused, dramatically. “I can’t imagine what his father will feel.”

“You don’t think he’s going to be suspicious that Marinette is on scene?” I asked quietly. 

“It’s amazing what a slightly different hairstyle and sunglasses will do,” she laughed. “I’m clear, they’re interviewing other bystanders now. Anything on your side?”

“Movement,” I said, listening intently.

“I’m off to our rendezvous point,” she said. “I’ll check in once I’ve transformed again. Holler if you run into trouble.”

“Roger.” The earwig beeped as the connection closed.

Getting impatient, I cracked the door open and crouched down, then skulked out to the mezzanine overlooking the atrium. Something was definitely going on in the atelier. There were voices, but not loud enough even for my enhanced feline hearing; I’d need to be closer, but that could be dangerous.

I didn’t have to make a move though, for the door to the atelier burst open, and Hawkmoth emerged, trailed by Nathalie. “—can’t go as Hawkmoth!” she was arguing, but Father was intent on the front door. “You _must_ protect your identity, sir.”

He whirled on her, and I pressed myself into the marble, trying to stay below the railing and motionless. “Adrien is hurt, and this is the fastest way for me to get to him. And I can’t risk de-transforming, I’ll lose the one Key we _do_ have.”

“It’s _Adrien_,” Nathalie pleaded. “Are you prepared to tell me the Keys are more important to you than your own son?”

That gave me pause. Of all people to be arguing for me, Nathalie was the last person I’d expect.

But it resonated with Hawkmoth, somehow. He paused, hand on the doorknob. 

“You found the Keys in the first place,” Nathalie pressed. “It will be easier to find them again. Chat Noir needs all twelve; without the one you have, the puzzle will reset in an hour, and we can start again.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Even if the locations change, you’ll find them. I’m certain of it.”

Hawkmoth considered what she’d said. For a long moment, I thought our plan would fail, but at the last moment, he said something quietly and I watched as he de-transformed to Gabriel Agreste. It was hard not to gasp as I watched it. Without saying another word, the two of them went out the front door together. With Gorilla no longer in his employ, I wondered who was now doing limousine services for Father.

I vaulted over the railing and landed on all fours on the marble; I waited, listening, and heard a sedan pull away from the curb. That was my cue: I leapt to the atelier and bounded through the door.

The space was in semi-darkness, which my night vision easily cut through. Staying crouched, I moved swiftly to the workstation where Father worked, and the bookcase just beyond, mindful of the pit of despair Nathalie had triggered earlier. The Channel award was right where we’d seen it before, returned to its location by Father’s actions.

_He’s gonna be pissed when he gets back_, I thought as a Chat smile crept onto my face. _Serves him right._

It had been a risk to assume he’d have enough parental instincts buried below his Hawkmoth persona that our sleight-of-hand from Rena would trigger his need to ensure Adrien was all right. I’d had my doubts, given how important the Keys had appeared to be for him. I was also aware it would be a ploy we’d never be able to use again. Heaven help me if I ever truly became hurt.

“Cataclysm!” I cried, and immediately ran my fingers over the Channel award.

For a long moment, nothing happened, and I wondered if Hawkmoth had pulled something on _us_. But the white glow appeared and the award lifted up, burst into the green-black fireworks, then disappeared into my magical vault.

“Success,” I said into the earwig as I turned to look for my exit. The green-black whirlpool was just below me in the sunken area of the atelier.

The earwig beeped. “Sounds like I am back in the nick of time,” Ladybug said. “Good work, Chat.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Now are you _sure_ if I go through this portal, I’ll wind up where you are?”

“Trust me, Chat,” she said.

That was enough for me. I vaulted from where I was standing into the whirling energy.


	13. 1400 to 1415 (Paris Time)

I continued my vault right through to the wide grassy field to the south and west of the Eiffel Tower, rolling into a tuck and coming out in my pounce-crouch. The afternoon continued to be nice weather wise, and Parisians were out in abundance enjoying the sun. Acutely aware that I was likely still viewed as a fugitive by authorities, however, I vaulted away from the few shocked onlookers that had seen me emerge from the portal and into the thicker growth along one edge. In true cat fashion, I leapt up and into a fairly good-sized tree, making my way as high as I could go that would keep me out of sight but also give me a view of the park.

My earwig beeped. “Chat? Where are you?”

“Not where you are,” I lamented. “I’m close to the Eiffel Tower.”

I heard her merry laugh. “Actually, kitty, I’m just above you.”

“What?” I turned my masked eyes toward the Tower. “You’re up there?”

“Yep. Rena and Carapace are already here. Want to join the party?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” I said as I leapt out of the tree and vaulted my way across to the tower.

I hit the first set of girders and started clawing my way up. It had to have been the hundredth time I’d climbed the Tower over the years, and as I sprung from crossbeam to crossbeam, decided it hadn’t really gotten any easier for all of that. I kept to the inner side of the leg, trying to mask my ascent behind the elevator. It wouldn’t do to have photos of Chat Noir splashed around the social media of Paris – particularly at that moment.

“Where _exactly_ are you up there?” I asked as I vaulted up another few meters. I was close to the base of the observation level now. 

“Eiffel’s office,” Rena piped in. “Hey, Chat,” she said belatedly.

“Rena,” I said casually as I flung myself higher. “Sorry to interrupt your afternoon.”

“No worries. I have no problem being pressed into service,” she said happily. 

I was aware that Ladybug knew who Rena was under the mask, and now that we had our own understanding, as it were, I wondered if she’d be willing to share that secret with me now. I filed that away for later. But in true Chat fashion, I decided to push the envelope slightly. “Once we’re done here, want to get a drink or something after? A little superhero happy hour?”

“Chat,” Ladybug interjected. “Not an appropriate activity.”

I smiled as I covered the final set of crossbeams. “But we hang out—”

“_Chat!_” she hissed, but the damage was done.

“Wait – you hang with Chat Noir?” This was from Carapace.

“No – I mean, yes, but it’s not like that,” Ladybug replied hastily, and then realized the trap I’d sprung on her. 

“I thought you didn’t want us out in public?” Rena said. “How long have the two of you been dating?”

“We’re _not dating_,” Ladybug said firmly.

“Oh,” I said in mock sadness. “What are we calling it, then?”

“_CHAT!_”

I nearly had to pull the earwig out, she yelled so hard. But I found myself smiling uncontrollably as I hung a claw on the railing and flipped into a crouch next to my now-fuming partner. The smile evaporated when I saw the _we’ll-discuss-your-behavior-later_ look in her narrowed eyes, and my ears similarly wilted. Might have pushed that a bit too far.

Attempting to ignore the goofy grins on our other two partners, Ladybug huddled with us in a hidden corner just off the apartment Gustaf Eiffel had built into his tower. “Chat discovered this location when he was in the portal a few hours ago,” she started, and then looked at me. “Do you remember the clue?”

I nodded. “’Pencil, G. E. Tower._’ _But I assumed G.E. Tower was a person.”

“Not so much,” she grinned, then stood and nodded toward the door. “I need your lock picking skills,” she said.

A quick roll and I stayed crouched next to the door, making quick work of the locking mechanism with a claw or two. The door popped open, and we pushed into the apartment through the rear entrance. Carapace and Rena stayed behind to keep a weather eye out for any unwanted guests.

I’d never actually been inside the apartment even with the number of times I’d visited the tower, both as Chat and as Adrien. I’d looked through the windows, of course, but the wax figures of two of the greatest inventors of all time tended to freak me out. Naturally, that meant Ladybug was making a beeline for the vignette depicting a meeting between Eiffel and Thomas Edison, with Eiffel’s daughter, Claire, in attendance. I hung back and tried to look as though the view from the windows had captured my attention. Fortunately, we appeared to be between groups on the outer walkway, so if we worked quickly, we might avoid detection.

“Ah-hah!” Ladybug cried, pointing to the side table next to Eiffel. “I think this is it!”

I groaned and worked my way between the wax figures, hair on my neck standing as I did so. Ladybug had a gloved finger against the clear top, indicating a pencil among several other items in the display case. I quickly scanned the card. “’Pencil used by Gustaf Eiffel during initial design work on the Tower.’” I looked up. “Well, it fits. But are we really, really sure? This is my last Cataclysm.”

Ladybug locked her blue eyes on mine. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Okay,” I replied. I slid out my baton and smashed open the glass display. As the shards tinkled to the floor, I held up my paw and cried: “Cataclysm!”

The power flowed into my fingers and I quickly brushed them over the pencil. It glowed white, lifted into the space, and then did the same green-and-black fireworks display we’d seen for the past twelve hours, _poofing_ into the magical vault.

I turned to say something to Ladybug, and that was when the world went completely dark.


	14. Unknown Time (Not In Paris)

My head hurt. That was the first feeling that percolated into my consciousness.

The second was that I appeared to be face down on very rough surface. And it smelled musty, enough that I felt my nose crinkling automatically in distaste.

The third thought had me flinging my eyes open, despite the pain; immediately, my masked face frowned. Despite the world being ninety degrees wrong, my night vision clearly saw I was back in the barn at Mount Vernon, half a world away from the Eiffel Tower.

_We found all the keys!_ I thought frantically. _What did we do wrong?_

Every muscle ached and protested as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. I half-heartedly scanned the space, and then sat up a bit straighter when I realized it was _exactly_ as I had seen it less than twelve hours ago. Given how much time had passed, it had to have finally been daytime in the United States – or at least, early morning. But it wasn’t. The barn was as pitch black as it had been the first time (well, green-grey for me). 

And where was Marinette?

I flipped into my pounce crouch and started to circle. This time, Marinette was not lying anywhere on the barn floor; I was completely alone. If the portal had done this, I appeared to be completely on my own. Still crouched, I slid out my baton and popped it into phone mode. It chirped at me, indicating there was no viable cell signal; given how easily I’d been able to call Master Fu on my first visit, that was surprising. More concerning, though, was the chronometer: it read four dashes.

Clicking the phone closed but keeping the baton in my paw, I stalked to the door, and slid it open. It was the same moonless night as before, and I stood and started down the ramp toward the farmyard… and immediately found myself standing outside of Mount Vernon itself.

I blinked.

Slowly, I turned around, and the wide expanse of the green in front of the mansion was behind me, not the barn I’d just exited. This was starting to feel like some sort of dream, making me wonder if the concussion I’d taken originally hadn’t completely healed. The logical part of my brain started to stitch together the pieces, but I needed one further data point to confirm my suspicion.

I grasped the baton and rode it up to the cupola as before; the window we’d used earlier was conveniently open, and I slid through it easily… and landed in the wide, grassy field just outside the Statue of Liberty.

That made me nod. This _was_ the portal, then. Though I wasn’t yet sure why we were going on this nostalgic tour of the Key locations, I had a sense I was playing out the endgame of the puzzle. As if it sensed my understanding, the world shifted again between blinks and I was inside the base of the Statue.

My shock, though, was more for the stunning woman standing before me in a long, white dress and holding a parasol. Just as she had in the movie. A gauzy glow wreathed her form, and she was smiling gently at me. “Chat,” she said warmly. “You’ve done well.”

“Mom…?” I said, choking slightly. She’d disappeared when I was twelve and no amount of fruitless searching by Father had turned up any trace of her whereabouts. Intuitively, I knew it _wasn’t_ my mother, but seeing a physical manifestation of her hit me with a powerful emotional blow. “How…?”

“I’ve taken a form you’ll recognize so we can communicate,” she said as she stepped toward me. “I lifted this from your memories as it seemed the most appropriate.”

“So you’re not really here, then?” I said, suddenly overwhelmed with sadness. “It’s not really my mother.”

“No, Chat,” she said, placing a hand on my costumed shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Well,” I said, “it was a nice thought.” I smiled weakly. “Any chance you care to explain why I’m _here _and not back in Paris?”

“Oh, you’re still in Paris, Chat,” she smiled. “At least, physically.”

“Why does that worry me?” I replied, eyes widening.

“Don’t be,” she smiled again. “To your friends, you appear to have passed out. But you are perfectly fine, for now.”

“For now?” My masked face frowned. 

“You have some decisions to make, Chat,” she continued as we started to walk around the railing of the museum’s upper level. “Your pathway from here will be determined by your actions.”

_What else is new?_ I thought. “Pathway from here… to where?”

The apparition smiled at me and the scene shifted to the Animation Courtyard at the Walt Disney Studios. “That is entirely up to you,” she answered enigmatically. “Are you ready?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Good.” We shifted to Walt Disney’s office. “You now possess all of the Keys to Paris. Do you understand what that means?”

“I do.”

She nodded, smiling. “It has been a millennium since the box was hidden. Many have sought it, but you are the first holder of the Cat Miraculous to ever be summonsed to defend it.”

“Didn’t know that,” I said.

“Do you wish to open the box?”

“What?” I spluttered. “_Open_ it? Absolutely not!”

“Even if I told you it held the solution to defeating Hawkmoth?” she asked, circling me. I blinked and we were in Napoléon’s drawing room on St. Helena. “Not only that, but you could be reunited with your family. Made whole once more.”

This was playing out like one of those movies where the hero is tempted to renounce their quest for the promise of ultimate power. I had to admit, in all of the time I’d been Chat Noir, I’d never once thought I’d be placed into that sort of position. After all, my usual brief was running around handling the akumas Hawkmoth threw at us; I was a superhero, to be sure, but not on the order of the mythic ones I’d read in my comics. 

But in that moment, I knew why it was such an elegant plot device. For I could feel the pull of the attraction to end Hawkmoth’s reign in Paris; her hint that it might restore my Father to me – and, perhaps, even my mother – was compelling. Just the fact that I was even _thinking_ about it made me upset. That wasn’t the person I was – the _hero_ I knew I could be.

Clearly, though, whatever entity she represented could sense those thoughts from me, for she sweetened the deal. “You could even have Ladybug by your side. Forever.”

I smiled at that. “She’s already by my side,” I said with a Chat smile and a trace of snark. “Or I suppose, technically, I’m the one by her side,” I shrugged. “But either way.”

“This would guarantee you’d be together. Forever.”

I looked at the vision of my mother as the scene shifted to Scotland and the eighteenth hole at St. Andrews. Had it really been her, I knew exactly what she would say to trading away your morality for a chance at happiness. “Nothing lasts forever,” I said quietly. “Nor should it. I am content to enjoy what short amount of time I am granted to have with my Princess. I neither ask nor expect anything more.”

The apparition nodded as we found ourselves striding across the volcanic rock in Hawaii. “And if you could do everything I’ve described so far, _and_ have your mother returned to you?” She paused. “Would you then open the box.”

There it was: the ultimate offer of power. But I had already made a promise, so the decision was easy. “No.”

Without a hint of irony, the scene shifted to Father’s atelier. “Are you _absolutely _sure?” she asked me.

“I do not wish to open the box. Ever,” I said firmly.

I found myself whipping through final locations in a blur, and in a matter of heartbeats, appeared in that strange chamber once more, ringed by the obsidian pedestals displaying each of the keys. My guide had disappeared, but I still heard her voice in my head as if she were standing next to me.

“Excellent,” she said. “Master Fu made an inspired choice when he selected you for Plagg.”

“Thank you?” I said tentatively. “Does that mean I passed?”

“Nearly,” she laughed. “You have one task left to you.”

“All right,” I said. “And that is?”

“You’ll know when the time is right,” she replied, laughing. “We have also granted you the ability to use that last Cataclysm at any time once you return to the present.”

“Last?” I asked, a bit stymied. “I used all twelve already–“

“You forget what Master Fu told you,” she reminded me gently. Then, as if to push her point, a small holographic-like replay of my phone conversation with Master Fu appeared in front of me.

_“How do I remove it? Ah, Cataclysm or Ladybug Magic?”_

_“Both work hand in hand, Chat, as they normally would – but there are some differences. In this case, only Cataclysm will work to remove the bewitched item – and, Chat, this is very important: for the next thirteen hours, you’ve gained the ability to use your super power once per hour with no need to drop your transformation. In fact, if you do de-transform, you will lose the path to the next key.”_

_“Thirteen hours? That seems like a particularly specific number.”_

_“It is. Ladybug’s Lucky Charm has the power to disable all of the keys, but she can only use it once. If we do not disable all twelve keys by the final minute of the final hour, the puzzle resets, and we start over. The cycle will run endlessly until it concludes or the box is located.”_

“From your memory,” she said as the image winked out.

“Why can’t I do that with exam material?” I lamented. “Got it. Any other tidbits I should know?”

“Trust your heart, Chat. And trust Ladybug. And know that Hawkmoth, or others like him, will always seek out the Box or items like it.”

I nodded. “Sound advice.” I paused. “What is the cost for what you are selling?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. “For opening the box?”

“More than anyone should ever have to pay,” she said, and my world went completely white.


	15. 1415 to 1450 (Paris Time)

“—he’s still breathing,” I heard.

Something soft was beneath my head, and I popped open my eyes to see the foot of Eiffel’s wax figure a few centimeters in front of me. That was something I could never unsee. “How long was I out?” I asked without moving.

“Out?” Ladybug answered. “Maybe a minute,” she said as she gently helped me up.

“You have no idea how long those seconds were,” I said as I stretched. Rena and Carapace had managed to squeeze into the space, clearly summoned by Ladybug when I toppled over. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Rena asked.

“Fine,” I smiled. “I just had the most fascinating visit with the Keeper of the Box,” I added.

Ladybug’s eyes widened. “You’ve seen it? Just now?” She darted a glance toward Rena.

“Not the Box, no. But I had to navigate an intriguing Hero’s Quest to get back to you.”

It wasn’t possible for Carapace to look more stunned. “In sixty seconds?”

“Time was meaningless,” I explained, holding up my glowing Miraculous ring. “I’m pretty sure it was my second visit, somehow, inside my ring. It’s an odd experience, I can assure you.” I turned back to Ladybug. “The important part is that we have all of the Keys, and the box is still hidden. Our next step is pretty clear.”

“Disable the Keys,” she said.

“Right.” I waved a paw around the top of the Eiffel Tower. “Just, perhaps, not here.”

“Where, then?” Rena asked. I knew there was no point in sending our colleagues home – they would want to be present in case anything went haywire during this last hour. And Rena had some of the same have-to-see-it-for-myself mentality that another friend of mine often displayed.

Where indeed? I didn’t dare go back to the mansion. And the Bakery was definitely out. Aside from our favorite panoply of rooftops, we didn’t have a secret hideout of any kind for Team Miraculous. If we got through this successfully, I’d have to work on that with Ladybug – unless, of course, we managed to take out Hawkmoth in the next… wait, how long _did_ we have?

“What time is it, exactly?” I asked as we exited the apartment.

“1416,” Rena said. 

Forty-five-ish minutes. That seemed like a tall order. “We need a spot that is far enough away from everyone that it won’t attract—”

I didn’t get any further. The entire tower tiled out from beneath us, and all four of us slid along the walkway. I managed to grab the wrought iron railing with one paw and used the other to nab Carapace as he scrambled for purchase. Ladybug had gone under the railing but looped her yo-yo through one of the crossbeams; looking down, I could see she had Rena hanging on to her leg. For a moment, I thought I was having a wave of vertigo only to realize the tower was _continuing_ to fall out from beneath us. 

We were going to have to dive for safety. This was going to be tricky. I thanked Ladybug Luck that we were all still wearing the earwigs. “LB, the tower’s toast. We’ve got to jump. Can you carry Rena? Or should we link up?”

“I might be able to carry Rena, at least for a short distance,” she said over the link. “I’ve never carried anyone far though. It might just be enough to slow us down slightly.”

“I—” I started, and then the tower tilted significantly, shifting Carapace’s full weight in a massive downward pull. It was too much for one set of claws. I groaned as I slid down the metal, leaving grooves, and right over the edge. 

Carapace let go and pulled out his shell shield, using it as a partial parachute; I grabbed my baton and started to helicopter as furiously as I could. Both of us managed to slow our descent, but we were still falling fast. “LB, we’re apparently taking the express. Where are you?” I asked, trying to twist around to see her situation.

“Improvising!” she said. “On our way down now.”

I looked to Carapace who was managing to stay even with me with subtle movements of his shield. He saw my look of amazement and said over the iink: “It’s just another form of surfing, dude.”

_Dude?_

I didn’t have time to respond, for a blur of red and black polka dots rushed past us; then, nearly as suddenly, a massive French flag opened below us. I could see that Rena was holding one side, and Ladybug had the other; they started to slow up, which meant Cap and I were hurtling toward them.

“Grab an edge!” Ladybug said over the earwig. 

“Got it!”

I angled toward Ladybug, and Carapace headed for Rena’s side. In unison, we each took an offered corner from our partner and then the flag unfurled completely. We had a bit of a jolt as the winds buffeted the fabric, but at length, four superheroes were dangling from the four corners of the flag. With a bit of effort, we managed to steer around the falling debris from the tower. As we circled, continuing to scrub our speed, the akuma finally came into view.

Standing about hundred meters away from what had been the Eiffel Tower was a tall, thin man clad in a skintight outfit in shades of brown. He was holding his hands, palm out, toward the Tower, and waves of energy were pulsing from them, hammering both the structure and the ground it stood upon. A massive fissure had opened below the tower, which had consumed two of the support legs and led to the structure toppling. I fervently hoped no one was seriously injured and knew we needed to check the debris as quickly as possible.

“Hawkmoth is back in action,” Ladybug dryly noted. “Cap, Rena, we’ll take a first run at this guy. You two see if anyone needs assistance.”

The akuma saw us as we circled one final time, now gently descending. “We’ve been spotted,” I said. Looking down I thought we might be close enough to jump safely. “This might be a good time to eject, everybody.”

It wasn’t a moment too soon: the four of us let go just as that beam of his sliced through the center of the flag, shredding it completely. “That’s criminal,” I observed as I helicoptered to a point a few meters behind the akuma and landed in a crouch.

Ladybug landed opposite me, and Carapace and Rena further toward the debris field. They took off at run to check on the civilians; I extended my baton into defense mode as I stood and slowly moved toward the akuma. “I’m a little pressed for time today,” I said with a slight smirk. “We’ll stipulate you want our Miraculous; give us your name so we can get down to business.”

Turning slightly to keep both of us in his sights, the akuma laughed. “I am Temblor, and I want more than your jewels.” He laughed again. “And I am not alone.”

“Wha--?” I started, but Temblor moved fast and shot a burst of energy toward my feet, then twisted and did the same to Ladybug. I managed to jump a split second before it hit; Ladybug wasn’t as fortunate and dropped immediately from sight and into the catacombs below.

I was in a three-point crouch, baton in my hand still, and had to vault sideways to avoid another burst. Realizing the baton was nearly useless, I slid it to my back and then scurried around Temblor on all fours, narrowly avoiding the massive potholes he was creating in the granite. “Milady, are you okay?” I asked in between leaps. “I’m almost to you.”

“Fine,” she said. “Bruised dignity, that’s all. I could use a lift, though.”

“Okay. I should be—” I paused suddenly. One of those indefinable bonus senses I had as Chat had kicked in, and instead of continuing toward Ladybug, I flung myself right and tumbled behind a set of trashcans. 

An electric blue bolt of something sizzled against the granite where I’d been a moment earlier, leaving a massive black scorch mark. I tried to peer around the trashcan but had to vault again, as Temblor was still focused on me. “We’ve got a second akuma,” I said urgently. 

“What!” Ladybug cried. “We must have really pissed Hawkmoth off.”

“Guys,” we heard Rena on the link. “I’ve got a third one over here; it’s got a Carapace-like shield and is hurling pieces of the Tower at us.”

“There will be a fourth,” I said with dread certainty. “One for each of us.” I had to vault again, and this time a tiny bolt him my heel. “Ow!” I yelled. Despite it being a glancing blow, it felt like I’d stuck my foot into an electrical outlet.

“Chat?”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I’m fine, just shocked a little.”

“_I am Positron!_” we all heard as the latest akuma appeared, standing atop a city bus that was smoking where it had been blasted. This one appeared to be a middle-aged woman, short, with a massive lightning bolt on her chest. Both hands were glowing ominously.

Still dodging Temblor, I finally made it to Ladybug, and quickly extended my baton to her. She rode it up to street level from the dark depths and then rolled away from me as both Temblor and Positron shot their respective weapons at us. “I think this is a delaying tactic,” I said as I crouched behind a planter.

“I agree,” Ladybug said. “He’s trying to force us to either disable the keys here, giving him a chance to grab them en masse, or he’ll outlast us and force the puzzle to reset at the top of the hour.”

“He knows we won’t leave as long as civilians are in danger.” I scanned the area, looking for the inevitable appearance of Hawkmoth. “Is he using Catalyst again for the akumas?”

“Maybe,” Ladybug replied. “If you spot him, his costume will be different if he’s under her influence. It’s also possible he’s refined his ability to create akumas. He’s constantly taunting us with his superior command of the Miraculous magic; this could be that.”

“Scary thought.”

The planter exploded behind me into a thousand bits of ceramic and dirt, and I tried to leap away from it. My one foot was feeling numb from the shock and didn’t respond well when I put pressure on it, throwing my whole motion off. I had to adjust on the fly and roll into a tumble, coming out behind another planter that was equally as likely to be poor cover.

Shaking my foot to try and get the pins-and-needles sensation to subside, I kept scanning the plaza. “Plagg, time?” I asked my digital assistant. 

“1432,” came the digital representation of my kwami’s voice from the baton.

I heard Ladybug chuckle. “You know I’m going to give you no end of grief for naming your AI after him, right?”

“I’d expect nothing less,” I said, rolling away from another volley from Positron. “I think they’ve divided us,” I said. “I seem to have the full attention now of Positron.”

“We’ve got our hands full with – get this, ‘Hurler,’” Rena said. “There are a number of injuries here, too,” she added. “First responders are here, and we’re providing cover.”

“And I have Temblor,” Ladybug said. “They’ve also made sure to split us physically, too.”

“We need to pull them away—” I started, then I came up short. “No, we don’t,” I said thoughtfully.

“Chat?”

“Our normal modus operandi here would be to try and get these characters away from the civilians, right?” I asked as I rolled out from another planter exploding. I was running out of places to hide.

“Yeah,” Ladybug grunted. “Sorry, had to jump a new crevasse.”

“What is the most likely place we’d try to get them to?”

“Well, since we’re already at Trocadero, probably the Stadium.”

“Exactly.” I started to work my way back to Ladybug. “How deep was that hole you fell into?”

“Thirty meters, plus or minus.”

I shifted. “Can you make it to me? I’m close to where I used Cataclysm to get to the main sewer line.”

“I like what you’re thinking,” she replied, “and can do one better. Save that Cataclysm.”

“Milady, it might—”

“Save it,” she said, with the firmness she used as Ladybug that brooked no dissent. “Almost there. Be a good kitty and stand where you need the entrance.”

“There’s nothing ‘good’ about him,” Rena laughed.

“Hey!” I complained good naturedly. “I’m a perfect angel.”

“Uh, no, dude,” Carapace laughed.

“Wow, with friends like these…” I chuckled as I managed to trot to the exact spot I needed. “Ready.”

Ladybug zipped down her yo-yo from the sky and landed next to me, reeling in her line and spinning it up into a shield. I started to twirl my baton and turned to have my back to her. Slowly we circled together, each facing our designated akuma.

I fended off a blast from Positron, though my hands stung slightly with the aftereffects. “Anytime, Milady,” I encouraged, wondering how many more shots I’d be able to take.

“Here it comes,” she warned, and I felt her press up to me.

Temblor redirected his waves of energy down and carved a new canyon toward our position. As the ground rocked with the force of his power, we both tensed. “Jump in two!” I heard her cry out.

_One-one-thousand… two-one-thousand…_

I managed to both jump and deflect a shot directly back at Positron, who staggered slightly and exploded in a shower of sparks. Ladybug wrapped an arm around my waist, and I wound my tail around hers. Down we went into the darkness where I quickly swapped to my night vision. We were a little off on alignment and wound up landing in the center of the channel with a resounding splash; we both leapt out of the water and up to the stony walkway off to one side.

“Rena, Cap, we’re off to phase two,” Ladybug said into the earwig. “Can you hold out for a bit?”

“Don’t worry about us, Ladybug,” Rena replied. “But should I need to use my secret power…?”

“Hold off as long as you can,” I advised after looking at Ladybug. “We might need it. Same goes for you, Cap.”

“Roger.”

A crash from behind us prodded us forward, knowing that at least one of our akumas would be following. Unsure of how much of a blow I’d given Positron, I was still willing to bet it would be Temblor. “Fork ahead,” I said. “Never thought we’d be down here again, Bugaboo.”

“Me either,” she said as she ran behind me. “How do you want to handle this?” she continued. “I assume you want to disable the Keys before Hawkmoth realizes we never left Trocadero.”

“Spot on, Milady,” I answered. “Given the crashes behind us, our friend is close, though.”

We hopped over to the island that appeared in the center of the cavern, dividing the flow of water in half, and scooted around to the far side and away from the noise of our pursuer. A short run left us at the precipice overlooking a long drop into the main channel, making me wonder yet again how Paris had managed to create such a vast subterranean sewer network. 

I also hoped to never be down there when it was flowing at full capacity.

“Here?” she asked.

Perched there on the stone walkway, watching the detritus of Paris float by, I tried not to draw any cosmic conclusions with our location and the implications of what we were about to try and pull off. Maybe there was a message there; if so, I didn’t really want to figure out whether I was the trash, or the water washing it all away in an act of perpetual renewal.

“Not the best spot,” I sighed. “But it will have to do.” I looked at her. ”Should you call your Lucky Charm now? Or wait until I figure out how to get the Keys out of cold storage?”

The cavern shook, and dirt rained down from the roof. Temblor was ranging.

“I think at the same time, for expediency,” she said, eyes darting back toward the noise of our approaching nemesis. 

“Okay,” I agreed. I popped open my baton and went into the Key Inventory screen. While I hadn’t seen it earlier, I suspected I would now find an option on the menu to access the vault – which I did. Raising a masked eyebrow, I paused a claw tip over the button. “Ready.”

“Lucky Charm!” she cried, tossing her yo-yo up.

I pressed the button.

There was the requisite red and white flash for the Lucky Charm spell, and a green-black colored box dropped out of the sky and landed just to the side of Ladybug. Simultaneously, the green-black energy whirlpool we’d come to expect appeared beside it and whorled quietly.

But I was more focused on the squarish container. It didn’t have the standard red-and-black polka dots that Lucky Charms usually took on. And it was rotating, slowly, turning itself so the lid could open in the direction of the portal. 

Both masked eyebrows went up. “Ladybug… I think you’ve just found the box…”


	16. 1450 to 1501 (Paris Time)

We stared at the box, temporarily oblivious to the crashing noises getting louder.

“Well,” Ladybug said with a trace of humor, “Master Fu did say I had souped-up Lucky Charm.”

“We can’t open that!” I said. “We don’t _want_ to open that!”

Ladybug was nodding, slowly. “Maybe we do, Chat. Maybe we’ve been wrong about this the entire time; the goal is to open the box, after all.” She looked up. “We assumed whatever was _in _it would be important. It’s not.”

“Dear Kwami,” I said, feeling all color drain from my face. “It’s the Keys. It’s _always_ been the Keys. And we’ve been carrying them around for almost thirteen hours.”

“Exactly. We don’t need to just disable the Keys, we need to destroy them. All of them.”

“That’s why I have the bonus Cataclysm,” I added with a trace of astonishment. “Twelve to disable them long enough to round them up, and the thirteenth to make sure they never get used. Ever.”

She looked down at the box. “Quickly, let’s get them in the box!” she said.

_Good_, I heard the voice of my mother in my head. _She’s also an excellent choice. Now, hurry! Hurry, my dear Chat…!_

_Wow,_ I thought to myself. _It’s like I’ve got Obi-Wan in my head. And I’m more of a _Star Trek _fan…_

_Would it help if I swap to this voice?_ it responded, now sounding very much like Mister Spock.

Without thinking, I simply reached my paw into the whirling portal; it immediately felt something, and I pulled it out: the Bastille Key. I turned, and Ladybug had already cracked the lid of the box open. Stepping over, I looked in and saw… nothing. The box appeared to have no bottom. Shuddering, I simply dropped the Key in and watched it _poof!_ away.

I repeated the process another eleven times, all the while trying to keep steady, for Temblor was just around the final corner and the sewer walls were now raining a constant stream of debris over us. “That’s the last one,” I said as both the pencil from Eiffel’s office and the green-black whirlpool disappeared.

Holding my paw to the air, I cried out: “Cataclysm!”

This time around, the power that rushed to my hand felt like it had been multiplied by a factor of one hundred. It normally popped and sizzled, but nowhere close to what I saw at that moment. Even having wielded the power of destruction for as long as I had, it set me back a bit.

“Whoa,” I said to Ladybug. “You might want to keep clear…”

She eyed the fireworks popping off of my fingertips. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” she said, taking a cautious step away from me.

I took a step toward the box.

“Stop!” cried a familiar voice.

I moved forward, not turning.

“_Stop!_” he yelled, and the force of the instruction made me pause and turn. Hawkmoth was standing where we had originally crossed to the island and was walking slowly toward us, Temblor and Positron in tow. “You have no idea what you are doing, you foolish kids.”

“We’re no longer kids,” I said, wishing very much to add, _Father_. “We stopped being normal kids when we accepted the role of Miraculous Holder.”

He continued to move closer. “I’m not just talking about years; you know so little about the magic you hold, and the benefits it can provide. To you, to all of us.”

“Chat, ignore him,” Ladybug urged. “He’s delaying! We have less than eight minutes.”

I stepped closer. “We know _exactly_ what we are doing, and what we are _supposed_ to be doing with our magic,” I said, turning away and taking one final step to position myself over the box. For the first time all day, my ring started to chirp. Within those eight minutes, realistically I only had four left before the Cataclysm was wasted.

Hawkmoth was close enough now that my nerves were jangling all sorts of warnings. “Think of the good we can do with this box!” he said, urgently, with a tone that sounded more like my father than Hawkmoth. “We could cure people suffering from the incurable! Stop wars! Erase famine!”

My ring chirped again. Three minutes. “By misusing the power this box could provide?”

“No – not misusing!” He was barely five meters from us, his hench akuma crowding on either side of him on the narrow stone pathway. “Whatever you’ve been told is a lie. This box holds the answers we have _all_ been seeking. It’s not a weapon – far from it!”

“Chat,” Ladybug said, a little more insistently. “You know what you have to do.”

_Yes,_ the Mister Spock voice in my head intoned. _You do know what do to, don’t you? It would be illogical to have come this far and not see it through to the end._

Time seemed to slow down, and I had a moment of purrfect clarity. Without turning, I knew that Hawkmoth had started to dive toward the box; Ladybug’s move to in intercept him was blocked by a blast from Temblor that threw her against the stone wall, hard. Every instinct wanted to vault to her side, but I knew she’d be the first person to wave me off.

I pressed myself around the box, covering it as much as I could with my costumed body, took a deep breath, and brushed my ring hand against the side of the box. Other than my ring hand, I’d never been physically in contact with an object as I used Cataclysm. I expected – well, fervently hoped – the magic would differentiate between the box and me, but the slight tingling I felt worried me greatly.

Fortunately, it didn’t last. I felt myself grasping at empty air as I was hit from behind by something – I spasmed and fell to the stone, flopping wildly as all of my muscles worked out of sequence. My brain intellectually understood I’d taken the full brunt of Positron’s weapon, and as I lay there on my stomach, unable even to blink, I idly wondered if I’d saved the world from Hawkmoth but had finally lost my Miraculous to him in the process.

My fear felt close to fruition, as a shadow fell across my unblinking and unfocused vision. Hawkmoth, grinning cruelly. He might have even been saying something; I didn’t hear it as I realized my diaphragm had seized up.

I couldn’t breathe. 

This wasn’t entirely how I’d pictured my final moments as Chat Noir – heck, not even my final moments as Adrien, for that matter. I was torn between the anger that I couldn’t do anything for Ladybug and my misery that despite putting the Keys beyond Hawkmoth’s grasp, he was about to complete his long-running quest to possess the Cat Miraculous. And if Ladybug was in as sad a shape as I was, he’d soon have the Bug Miraculous as well.

As powerful as the Box was to have been, I was keenly aware of the havoc Hawkmoth could wreak with those two jewels, especially if combined.

And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

I felt the last of the air escaping my lungs and saw the sparkles at the edge of my vision. It wouldn’t be long now. I supposed it was _something_ that Ladybug was with me in those final moments; the warmth I felt just thinking about how she’d actually been with me all day was a nice emotion I decided to try and hold onto as long as I was capable of doing so. 

Hawkmoth was kneeling next to me now, and what sensation I had left felt him touch my ring hand. My fading vision thought I saw the gleam of delight in his face, but the hypoxia could also have been making me hallucinate, too. 

_I’d rather see Ladybug’s face last,_ I thought sadly. _At least she’s here. That’ll have to be enough._

He started to slide the ring down my finger. Instinctively I tried to curl my paw into a fist, but like every other muscle in my fading body, it didn’t respond. I did feel the tingle of de-transformation starting at my feet and was filled with immense regret at my failure. 

_What will he think when he sees who Chat Noir is?_ I wondered. _It’ll be too late by then. I’ll never know._

Darkness had begun to overwhelm my fuzzy vision, and I started to give myself over to it. Rather tritely, I saw a light forming at the end of the dark tunnel; I wondered if I would be Chat at the other end, or Adrien, or both. How I was capable of metaphysical thoughts at that moment was beyond my comprehension; but the tiny part of my feline brain that was still working pointed out the light was _red_, not white. And it was moving. 

Toward me.

Was Hawkmoth turning away? I struggled for a moment to see, but that de-transformation tingle ticked up a thousand fold to the full bore feeling I had when I went through the process normally. 

_That’s it, then. He’s got the ring and he’s going for Ladybug—_

Violently, I sucked in a lungful of air, then another; I felt like someone who’d been holding their breath underwater for too long and had suddenly burst through the surface for air. Gasping, I blinked to clear my vision; Hawkmoth was still kneeling next to me, and was still turned slightly away.

But not enough. The Moth Miraculous was right there in front of me, hanging from his cravat. 

In a move fueled by feline reflexes, my paw shot to his chest and ripped the jewel from his shirt; just as quickly, I rolled away from him and hit the stone wall behind me. Flipping myself into a pounce crouch, I found myself facing the de-transforming Hawkmoth.

His color was apparently a deep purple; once the wave receded, Gabriel Agreste was kneeling there instead. Normally I would run to the side of a victim once they’d been released from their spell. In this case, I could only stare at him. Turning slightly, I could see Ladybug just beside me, smiling.

“Miraculous Ladybug?” I asked, simply.

She nodded. “On steroids,” she said quietly. “I made a guess that it would be as supercharged as whatever had brought us the Box.” Ladybug pointed to my ring. “And I was right.”

I looked down: my ring was fully charged, as if I’d not used my Cataclysm. “It was a _full_ reset?” I asked, eyes wide.

“Yes.” She flicked a glance behind us and I turned. A tall but skinny man was standing there, bemused, with a shorter woman next to him looking as equally confused. “Removing the brooch appears to have broken his akuma magic, too.”

“It did,” a tiny voice said, and we turned to face Nooroo, the long missing kwami. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Chat Noir,” the tiny purple god said. “And you, Ladybug.”

I handed Ladybug the Miraculous. “Well, this is not how I pictured us retrieving this,” I said as she popped open her yo-yo to store the jewel; Nooroo followed it and disappeared into the magical depths. “Or that he would be—”

“Gabriel Agreste?” she added hastily. “Surprising, isn’t it, _Chat_?” she added, emphasizing my nom-de-plume.

“Ah… right,” I replied, realizing I’d been on the cusp of saying _Father_. Perhaps it would be wiser to keep that part of my life hidden from him. For now.

“I make no apologies,” Gabriel said as he stood and dusted off his phenomenally expensive designer trousers. “The two of you are making a serious mistake – _have _made a serious mistake.”

“You were already our enemy,” I said hotly. “How much worse could it get?”

Gabriel’s eyes were filled with fire. “Now I am angry,” he said tightly. “And more motivated than ever.”

“Good luck with that,” I said as I moved to take him by an arm. “I fear you won’t get far while in prison.”

He smiled at me, and it was of the cruel Hawkmoth variety. “You’re right, I won’t…”

Surprising both of us, he turned and ran over the ledge, swan-diving into the rushing water below. I moved to pursue him, but Ladybug caught my arm. “No,” she said. “Let him go.”

“He’s getting away!” I cried, trying to pull my bicep from her grasp.

“_Let him go_,” she said, firmly. “I’m certain we’ve not seen the last of him, but for now, he’s powerless and can’t harm anyone.”

She was right; I suspected Gabriel was wily enough that he’d survive the dive and still be at the board meeting for the company later in the week. Aside from the four of us in that sewer, no one else in the world knew of his reign of terror as Hawkmoth. And if he did appear, Chat and Ladybug would be right there, ready and waiting.

Without the jewel, he’d be hard pressed to be as much of a menace. At least, that was my furrvent hope.

“Let’s get these two home,” Ladybug suggested gently. “And then we can decompress.”

Despite being myself once more, a bone-deep weariness descended upon me. I had been going at full tilt for more than thirteen hours; a short catnap was sounding more and more desirable. I checked my baton’s clock – it was 1501. 

We’d made it, but just barely.

“That sounds like a plan,” I said, and followed her back toward the Tower.


	17. One Day Later

The warmth of the sun against my costume brought out the worst cat instincts in me, and I could feel the rumble of a purr as I snuggled closer to Marinette. I’d had no desire to return to the mansion in the aftermath of our run in with Gabriel in the sewer, so after we’d seen to the three akuma victims, Ladybug had made a quick trip to Master Fu to return the three Miraculous jewels and bring him up to speed on our situation.

I’d opted for her balcony and what I thought would be a short catnap in the late afternoon sun; a few hours later, I’d stirred long enough to realize that Marinette had joined me on the blanket I was using, and then was dead to the world until the divine scent of coffee had rousted me the following morning.

Marinette had fed me, and made no effort to prod me to drop my transformation, intuitively understanding that I had no desire to be Adrien – at least, not for a bit. I was more than happy to hide beneath the cat ears and mask in order to avoid facing the truth of what Gabriel had been. It wasn’t lost on me that mentally I’d stopped referring to him as Father.

I’d scanned the news on her tablet as I’d munched, and noted dryly that Chat was no longer an outlaw. The Miraculous cure had apparently returned all of the former Keys to their rightful locations, albeit without their underlying magical qualities. While there was some speculation as to why Chat had “borrowed” the items from locations across Paris, I suspected in a few days other shiny objects would distract the public’s interest entirely.

We were both tired – well, exhausted, really -- and had snoozed off and on the rest of the day atop her family’s Bakery. It was perhaps a good thing that we’d put Paris’ resident super villain out of business, for I’m not sure either of us had any great desire to move one whisker more than was necessary.

My nose was buried in her hair, her head just below my chin. I savored the moment, having wanted to be this close to my love for more years than I’d cared to admit. I closed my masked eyes again, intent upon soaking up every photon the sun was putting out.

Some hours later, my nose twitched with the scent of passionfruit; I swam up from my slumber and cracked open an eye to see Marinette sitting in her chaise, a baking tray beside her on the table piled high with my favorite macaroon. Well, technically, it was _Adrien_ who loved that cookie; as Chat, I’d tried some subterfuge and had waxed effusive over the Belgian Chocolate croissants Tom made. As much as I loved the pastries, though, the cookies now meant more now that I knew Marinette had been making them specifically _for_ me each time she’d offered them to Adrien.

I smiled wider, belatedly seeing how many tiny signs of her affection had always been there. I’d never realized that my growing fondness for Marinette and now-nightly visits to her on this very balcony had actually been the first signs that I’d fallen hard for my friend. It was nice to know the feeling was mutual. 

Even if I was rather foolishly choosing to remain as a human sized cat for – my Lord, had it been almost three days now? It had, I realized, as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. _Plagg is gonna want the top-shelf cheese when I finally _do _detransform, _I thought with a smirk. _And I’ll gladly pay that price._

“Milady,” I said with a broad Chat smile. The sun was setting behind me, so she was beautifully lit with the glowing golds of the afternoon’s last gasp. “Are those for me?”

“Only if you’ve been a good kitty,” she laughed. “Have you been good, Kitty?”

That was too much of an invitation to channel my inner miscreant as Chat. Tapping my refreshed feline reflexes, I leapt to her lounge before she had a chance to react and landed astride her legs. Putting one arm on either side of her shoulders, I leaned down close enough that my masked nose nearly touched hers. “Oh, I do believe I have been _very_ good, Purrincess,” I said, with a somewhat sly expression upon my masked visage. I leaned closer and to her side, breathing oh-so-gently into her ear. “How might I convince you of my sincerity?”

Marinette’s eyes had widened, but not with shock – more in gleeful acknowledgement that she accepted me – all parts of me – just the way I was. Chat had freed me to be a little looser, perhaps, but even now, as flirtatious as I was being, there was an upper limit on what I would allow myself to do. And she knew me well enough now to understand that.

And just how to play with it, too.

She smiled craftily and carefully drew her finger along my masked nose. “Be careful, Kitty,” she said. “I know _all_ of your secrets now.”

“Do you?” I asked, masked eyes narrowing as I inadvertently encouraged her to prove it too me.

“Yes,” she said, and faster that she should have, her hand grabbed my bell and yanked me down with one hand; the other reached around and started to rub the tip of one of my feline ears.

My eyes flew open at her touch, and then closed in bliss that I’d only felt on a few occasions, usually when Marinette had randomly scratched behind an ear. But this was something I’d not felt before, and the purring just poured out of me. I was helpless, and gently fell to her side as she continued her ministrations.

“I warned you,” she laughed as she kissed me between the ears. “I know you better than you think.”

“Yes,” I said, finding myself snuggling in close again, purrs nearly overwhelming my ability to hear myself speak. “And I am quite fine with that, bugaboo.”

She laughed and released both the bell and my ear, but I remained snuggled against her side. “I am quite content to stay like this furever,” I sighed, my purrs quieting slightly but not ceasing.

“I’m not sure Plagg would appreciate that, Chat.”

“I know,” I sighed again. “Look, I’m not feline like staying in the mansion tonight. Can I crash here again?”

“Chat---”

I cracked open a masked green eye and gave her my best model version of Doll Eyes. “Puhleease?” I whined.

Marinette laughed. “How will I explain this to my parents?” she lamented as she pulled me into a hug. “And I can’t resist those eyes.”

I grinned. “I know your secrets too, Milady.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are welcome to stay, but I’d rather you let Plagg out for a bit first.”

I sat up a bit. “Come with me to the mansion. I’ll grab a few things plus the really good cheese I have for Plagg.” I laughed a bit. “It’s the least I can do to apologize.”

She looked at me with those deep blue eyes and nodded. “Absolutely. Let me tell my parents I’m walking my kitty.”

“Seriously?”

Marinette laughed as she ran a tempting finger along the edge of my mask. “The longer you stay in that costume…”

“What, this costume?” I rolled off the chaise and started flexing, knowing full well how it highlighted my muscle definition. “I guess that is the price I must pay for happiness…”

“Incorrigible,” she laughed as she disappeared through the skylight. 

A few minutes later, Ladybug and I were soaring over the gathering darkness toward the mansion. I was a bit melancholy and more than a little apprehensive about what I might find there; facing Gabriel was not high on my priority list anytime in the next millennia, but at some point, it would have to happen. It would be nice to have Marinette by my side if it happened that evening – or whenever it did, for that matter.

We saw it a few blocks out.

The closer we got to the mansion, the more the early night sky had taken on an orange-white glow. I didn’t have to look at Ladybug to know she’d quickened her pace as I had; by the time we’d arrived on a rooftop overlooking my home, it was clear the entire structure had been engulfed in flame. We were only there for a moment before both of us vaulted down to the first responders; despite everything that had happened with Hawkmoth over the past few hours – heck, over the last few years, even – I still had compassion for the people who lived under that roof, including Gabriel.

It took a moment to locate the incident commander. “Was anyone inside!” I practically yelled once we found her.

“No, Chat,” she said. “An anonymous caller phoned it in, and we got here before it caught fully. Granted, we didn’t search the entire space—”

“Where did you search?”

“First and second floors. No sign of Gabriel Agreste or his son.”

I shot a look at Ladybug. “Adrien is fine, he’s with friends,” I said neutrally.

“How do you—”

“Trust me.” I turned to Ladybug. “I have to know.”

“I’m with you,” she agreed. 

The commander knew what we were about, but before she could object, we vaulted away from her and into the fray. Avoiding the flames licking out of the massive windows on the first floor, I clawed up to the roof and skipped around an inferno that popped through the tiles. I flipped around to where my bedroom was, and carefully looked around the edge, whipping back quickly as the flames burst out of the destroyed panes. I waved at the smoke and heat, but knew there would be no way in.

“He’s covering his tracks,” I said over the howl of the fire. “Anything linking him to Hawkmoth. He’s destroyed it all.”

“Even your personal stuff!” Ladybug lamented.

“They are just things,” I said, trying to ignore the pain of loss. “Replaceable.” 

We tried a few other points of entry but at length left the firefighters to mop up the scene; other than the main staff, who’d all gotten out in time, there was no trace of Nathalie, Gabriel or Gorilla. I had to believe they were safe and off plotting some sort of comeback, but my heart was heavy with understandable worry as I returned to the Bakery with Marinette.

The fire unwittingly gave us the perfect excuse for Adrien to appear. We both dropped our transformations a few blocks out; Marinette called ahead and told her parents about the fire and (with some flourish) said that Chat had reached out to her about putting up Adrien for a bit. They were only too happy to accommodate a request from one of the Heroes of Paris, and both Tom and Sabine met me at the door to the residence with a big hug. 

We cried together, and I _did_ cry, not just for the loss of the mansion, but the loss of innocence it connoted. The Keys of Paris may have been solved and put away forever; they had, unfortunately, unlocked a new chapter in my life I’d not been expecting. Most of it was beyond my wildest dreams, but the rest had the potential to be a bleak nightmare. Once more, I found myself thankful Marinette was by my side. 

And would be for as long as I could hold onto her.


	18. Epilogue

Seeing as though I’d been transformed for nearly three days, my civilian cell phone was completely dead the morning after the fire. Having been so wrapped up in dealing with the authorities, the insurer, and House of Gabriel lawyers, I’d simply borrowed a charger from Marinette and left it charging in the spare bedroom the Dupain-Cheng household had made available to me.

Being early days yet, the authorities were still attempting to determine Gabriel’s whereabouts. They had pressed me substantially on anything I might know, and had surprised me with a very rigorous listing of his recent travels. Nearly all of the dates in question had been “work related” as far as I had known at the time; now, seeing the exotic and far flung destinations, I suspected they were less on behalf of House of Gabriel than Hawkmoth. In the interim, seeing that I was now of age, French Social Services had no interest in my situation; as I was under the age that my trust fund became available to me, however, a fiduciary from House of Gabriel had been temporarily appointed to make sure I was clothed and fed, and my tuition for the upcoming fall semester could be paid for.

The fire marshal had informed me that the blaze appeared to have started in the kitchen, so they were naturally assuming a grease fire. I knew better. Only the upper floors of the mansion were damaged; the basement warehouse containing all of the master patterns for House of Gabriel had been untouched – an oddity if one didn’t know how Gabriel operated. It also made me wonder what other secrets were down there that he didn’t want disturbed; I planned a nocturnal visit later in the week to see for myself.

Marinette’s family had graciously offered to let me stay with them until I could move into the dorm that fall, and I’d returned to my new room after dinner to consider their offer. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, I was worried that I was on the cusp of a classic Chat mistake that would ruin everything.

As I sat on the bed, my civilian phone beeped at me. I slid over to the tiny nightstand and tapped the screen, and saw I had a voicemail.

From Gabriel.

Suddenly I was thirteen again, and there was no way I could handle this alone. At least, not as Adrien.

Poor Plagg was snoozing on a tiny pillow Marinette had quickly sewn for him, and I gently woke him before calling for my transformation. Once I was Chat Noir, I slipped out the side window and clawed up to the rooftop balcony where I knew Marinette had been taking her after dinner coffee.

She looked up in surprise from a sketch she was making as I curled around the railing and landed in a crouch. “Princess, I have a voicemail,” I said succinctly. “And I can’t hear it alone.”

Marinette patted the chaise and scooted sideways so I could leap up beside her. I handed her my unlocked civilian phone and wrapped a paw around her shoulders for emotional support. “We’ll do it together, then,” she said, holding my paw in one hand and triggering the playback with her other.

Gabriel’s voice filtered out of the speaker.

_“Adrien, I will need to go away for a while, for reasons you won’t understand. _

_“By the time you hear this, the mansion will have been destroyed and you will be alone for the first time in your life._

_“You are an Agreste and all the name implies. Until my return, you will be the face of our family and our company. I can’t emphasize how important it is that you remember this.”_

And that was it. No goodbyes, no “I love yous.”No nothing other than the usual stern reminder of my heritage. My inner thirteen-year-old was in revolt, but I slapped it back. Aside from all of the emotion he had intentionally dragged up, there was one point in particular that I couldn’t fail to miss.

“Purrhaps it’s appropriate I listened as Chat,” I said quietly as Marinette returned the phone to me.

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s coming back,” I replied, putting away the emotional anguish of part of my life now in ashes. “He’s not done in his Quixotic quest for the Miraculous, and I’m reasonably certain he’s off to find something to help him regain his powers. Somehow.” I looked away. “And Chat will be ready for him when he does.”

Marinette turned my face toward hers gently. “We will _both _be ready, Kitty.” She looked at me with those dazzling blue eyes, full of worry and compassion and the need to assure me that I was loved. 

“Both. And don’t you forget it.”


End file.
